Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Merlin’s life was a joke, and he was the oft trodden punchline. 

Gaius might tell him he was being dramatic, but even Gaius’s eyebrow couldn’t argue with this morning. Though it might try given how Merlin had started the day—waking up late, running out the door and in his haste, smack into Gaius. Who, naturally, had been holding a vial of an essence made from a rather important, and rare, herb. The kind that grew outside the citadel a good pace and always gave Merlin an impressive deal of trouble in finding it. 

The vial had hit the ground, shattering like an omen for the day ahead. 

One of the kitchen maids dropped a hot, heavy pan on his foot as he attempted to navigate the extra chaos caused by more people in the castle than normal, just wanting to get the prince regent his breakfast as quickly as possible. Which was his goal every morning and certainly not only the days he was running late. 
 
And in said haste, he might not have been watching where he was going. Again. In was becoming a habit. Which is why he smacked straight into Gwen going around a corner. 

At the moment, he was gritting his teeth to keep from saying something unkind. This latest unfortunate incident was definitely not Gwen’s fault. He took a breath and gathered up the broken dishes, wincing as he thought of what cook would do when she saw this. 

“Oh Merlin, if you have a chance, could you help me with the visitor’s rooms? I know it’s not usually your responsibility…” Gwen chewed on her lip, like she always did when asking for something for herself. 

“Of course.” He would have helped anyway, but this came with the added benefit of assuaging some of his current guilt. 

On to the next task on the list. Getting the royalty up and at ‘em. 
 
Arthur was difficult to get out of bed on a good day. 

“Arthur, you have to get up,” Merlin repeated, having lost count of how many times he’d said it just this morning. 

Today was not a good day.

The king muttered something unintelligible and likely insulting. Merlin rolled his eyes and started through Arthur’s wardrobe. 

“The red shirt today? It’s petition day, and it does look royal.” Merlin glanced back to the bed, where Arthur had his eyes screwed shut and was trying very hard to get back to sleep. “In contrast to what you look right now.” 

“Leave me.” 

“Yes sire,” Merlin said, continuing to thumb through Arthur’s shirts before inevitably settling on the red one he’d first picked out. It was always the red one. He should stop doubting his instincts. 

“Merlin?” A voice mumbled from underneath the covers. 

“Yes, sire.” 

“You’re still here.” 

“Yep.” Merlin walked back, tucking the shirt under his arm, and reaching for Arthur’s legs. Arthur swatted his hands away. 

“I’m perfectly capable of getting out of bed on my own.” 

Merlin just gave him a look, the top of Arthur’s ears turning red. Merlin gestured for the royal ass to raise his arms. 

“Breakfast is on the table, and I’ve got the list of petitions Leon gathered up last night, just to give you the heads up,” he said, pulling the shirt down and smoothing out the fabric over Arthur’s shoulders. 

It was always the perfect choice for these days. Made Arthur look every inch the king he was, the king he would become. The morning sunlight hitting his golden hair just right, adding nature’s crown to the entire affair. Merlin felt a wave of an unnamed emotion threatening to choke him. 

So naturally, he said something insulting to cover it up. “Can’t have you fainting in front of everyone because you’re hungry. Despite eating like a horse every day.” 

“Is that how you talk to your regent?” 

“Yes. Now the king’s breakfast is waiting for him, if he’d like to have it.” 

Arthur’s hesitance about the title hadn’t slipped past Merlin. Neither had Merlin’s dogged use of the title, despite the numerous lectures he’d already gotten about how it wasn’t correct. It was in his eyes, and as far as he was concerned, that was all that mattered. 

"What happened to your foot?" Arthur asked curiously. 
 
"Nothing, it's fine," Merlin grimaced. He hadn’t realized he was limping a little, and Arthur’s words brought back his attention to the fact that the top of his foot was smarting like all hell. 
 
"Well, you won't mind mucking out the stables then." 
 
Merlin muttered something under his breath. 
 
"Of course, if something is wrong with your foot, you might want to take the day easy." 
 
"One of the kitchen girls dropped a pan on it. There. Are you happy?" Merlin snapped. 
 
He turned to find a startled looking Arthur that quickly morphed into a very court appropriate Arthur. Resolute, wtih no emotion on his face. 
 
"Of course. Your wellbeing is clearly none of my concern." 
 
He went back to his breakfast and Merlin stood in the middle of the room, listing curses in his head until he felt less like murdering Arthur. The emotionally repressed moron. A knock on the door interrupted Merlin’s reverie, and the king’s breakfast. 

“Enter.” 

Leon poked his head in, “My lord, most of the petitioners have already gathered.” 

Arthur looked to the window, realizing the time. 

“Merlin!” 

—
 
Merlin drifted behind Arthur and Leon, not paying much attention to what they were talking about. Or much of anything else. Truth be told, he should have been. Not only to maintain the low-key alertness that kept Arthur alive when there were strangers in the castle, but also pick up anything he would be expected to miraculously know later. 

Arthur had long forgotten the days when Merlin wasn’t so hyper vigilant he knew everything before Arthur asked him. And frankly, he need a day off. The entire thing was exhausting. Hence the glazed over eyes as he followed the king and head knight down the castle corridors. 

Just for a minute. He just needed a minute to take a deep breath and not scream before this already rough start to the day threw him off balance anymore. 

Petitions made a good space for a breather. There was a commoner accusing someone of stealing his sheep. A lord from somewhere the thought the taxes coming down from Camelot were a bit steep and his subjects couldn’t pay them without starving in the coming winter. 

Arthur’s face was the learned neutral of someone raised at court. Merlin, however, could still see the hint of annoyance around his eyes. 

“Your subjects you say?” 

“Yes, sire.” 

“First, those are my subjects, not yours. And second, it’s not the commoners who are having issues, and perhaps if you took fewer chances with your gold, neither would you.” 

The lord slunk away, him, Arthur, and everyone else now fully aware that assuming ignorance of the common court gossip on Arthur’s part would not end well. Merlin almost felt sorry for the lord. Anyone who spent time around Uther would know that everything Uther knew, Arthur knew. Especially regarding certain foibles of certain nobles. 

Just as Merlin was wondering if he could get away with sleeping while standing up, Gwen appeared at the back of the room, waving her hands in little furtive moments. Merlin slipped out of the room without catching much attention. Servants really were invisible. 

“Sorry for pulling you out, but I’m trying to finish all this rooms before the nobles get back from court.” 

Merlin and Gwen were both grinning. 

“Oh yes. How dare you, my standing in the corner keeps the court together.” 

“So you’d rather clean rooms, then,” she said, with a warm smile. 

He appreciated Gwen as a friend and didn’t mind helping her out. But speed-cleaning four rooms had him flexing his stiff fingers on his way back to the council chambers and wishing again for a day off.

Merlin got back just as Arthur was struggling to get rid of that one, lingering court member who could never take a hint. Lord Ector. 

“I’d be happy to take the lead on this, if his highness wishes.” 

Arthur’s face was that of the disinterested, bored noble. 

“I’ll have Sir Leon look into it.” 

“Are you sure? If this relates to…” The noble trailed off, his eyes darting through the hallway, looking for interlopers and glazing right over Merlin. “…. magic, then we must—” 

“Are you questioning Sir Leon’s credentials in this area?” 

“Of course not, sire.” 

“Well then.” Arthur walked away, looking every inch the king. 

Lord Ector took the hint, still not acknowledging Merlin as they crossed paths. 

“What was that about?” 

“Someone who can’t let the old ways go.” 

Oh sure. Don’t tell Merlin what’s going on. That’s fine. Merlin need not know. 

“You’re not going to tell Leon anything.” 

“There’s nothing to tell.” 

“You don’t want to investigate potential magic use.” 

Arthur scrubbed his hands across his face. “No. I don’t.” 

Merlin started to say something else, but Arthur was halfway down the hall and continued cutting him off everything he opened his mouth. Back at it, then. 

—

The only bright point in the day was Arthur waving Merlin off after Merlin helped him into his chainmail for practice. Something about not needing him today, Merlin wasn’t paying attention as he was far too busy getting out of sight before the prince regent changed his mind. 

It took Merlin far too long to get back around to straightening Arthur’s chambers, and he was doing a more half-assed job than he normal. Just as he was contemplating shoving more things under the bed and hoping Arthur wouldn’t miss them—or notice—Arthur came charging in. Which was normal enough. But then he stopped. He stood in the middle of the room, clenching and unclenching his fists. Merlin watched him out of the corner of his eye and continued sorting Arthur’s socks, letting the regent stew in whatever it was. 

“I want you to know how I feel about…. your job performance.”  

Merlin eyed Arthur, picking up a dusting rag. 

“You’re in an interesting mood.” 

And he wasn’t in the mood to pick the fight Arthur wanted. Or whatever Arthur was after. He couldn’t quite tell. Merlin went about his dusting. 

“I’m glad my father made you my manservant. Even if you’re not very good at it. Well, not the principal parts.” Arthur touched the flowers on the table. “Nice touch.” 
Merlin eyed Arthur in the corner of his vision. Arthur was still messing with the vase, his interest in the flowers not matching his movements. He glanced up. Merlin jerked his eyes back to the cabinet, running the rag over non-existant dust. It had been a long time since Arthur’s actions had confused Merlin this much. He circled through the words in his head. Still not getting anywhere. What was Arthur playing at now? 

“What?” 

“No, I mean it.” 

“Mean what? Are you trying to call me a girl again? Arthur, don’t get clever with your insults. It doesn’t suit you.” 

“No! I wasn’t saying that.” 

Merlin stopped what he was doing. 

“All right. What were you trying to say?” 

“I know I spend a lot of time making jokes about how bad you are at your—” 

“Jokes? Are those supposed to be funny?” 

“Could you shut up for one minute and let me—” 

“Me shut up? You’re the one that’s always talking.” 

“Merlin!” 

“What!” 

“I just… I’m trying to tell—” Arthur stopped, took a breath and stared at the ceiling long enough Merlin went from curious to exasperated. 

“What are you about to say? That you’re throwing me in the stocks again for another half-assed reason because you think it’s funny?” 

“I might if you don’t let me get through this!” 

“Well.” Merlin waved a hand. “What it is it?” 

If he was about to tell Merlin he really did expect Merlin to improve at this whole servant bit, Merlin was going to lose his tenuous grip on… well, on everything. A few pieces clicked into place with Arthur’s next words. 

“There’s this… person, and they’re very special to me.” 

Merlin’s heart froze, stopping time more than it already was and making it impossible for him to enjoy just how bright red Arthur’s face was getting. 

“What, no, that’s not how I want to say this. Give me a moment.” 

Merlin’s terrible, horrible, no-good, very bad day was flashing before his eyes as his eyebrow carved a path towards the ceiling. And that was before he was standing in front of a babbling Arthur seemed to have forgotten how words worked. Which was unceasingly odd, given how adept Arthur was with words. Both the result of being raised royalty and not being fond of self-expression. When he did use them, he generally knew how. 

But now he’d go on for five minutes, and backtracked twice. Merlin didn’t know how to respond because he still wasn’t sure what Arthur was even trying to discuss, much less what he was trying to say. Merlin’s silent confusion seemed to make everything worse. 

Which just lead to more rambling. 

If Arthur didn't shut up, he wasn't going to be fulfilling his destiny. Because Merlin was going to murder him. Of course, if he strangled Arthur, he'd never know what Arthur was trying to say. Merlin was fast loosing his curiosity in short order. This day had already been heinous, and Arthur was the clotpole cherry on top. 
 
"Arthur." 
 
The red on Arthur's face deepened. "Merlin, could you--" 
 
"What. The fuck. Are you trying to say?" 
 
Crickets. Or more accurately, cricket. Merlin heard an actual cricket chirping somewhere in the room. Great. Add it to the already miserable list for that day. 
 
Arthur’s got redder; a feat Merlin didn't think was possible. And he stayed silent. 
 
"Fine! I've got a million things to do, curtesy of you. When you figure out what fresh hell you'd like to torture me with today, let me know!" 
 
Merlin did not slam the door on his way out. That would have been disrespectful. 
 
He ended up mucking out the stables. Even though he knew by this point he could just tell one of the stable hands to take care of it. It gave him time to calm down and try to let the day go. 

Merlin came back up to find Arthur sitting at his table, staring at it intensely. On the walk back from the stables, and the whole time he’d been mucking them, the guilt had been getting worse. 

“Arthur, I’m sorry for earlier.” 

“It’s fine,” Arthur said dully, his mind not on Merlin. 

“Are you waiting for someone?” 

“You.” Arthur said it like it was the most obvious fact in the world. “I need to got see my father.” 

Merlin didn’t want to point out he could have done that one his own. Arthur had made a daily ritual out of visiting Uther, who was a ghost of his former self. After watching Arthur come back from the visits truly haunted, Merlin had started following Arthur to Uther’s chambers. Neither of them had said anything about it, and Merlin didn’t want to break the spell. 

“Right. Sorry I’m late.” 

“You’re fine,” Arthur muttered, again dull and unfocused. He got up from the table and left the room. Merlin silently followed him through the castle, disappearing into the background when they reached Uther’s chambers. 

While he no intention of leaving Arthur to struggle through this alone, he felt like a voyeur, privy to a conversation that wasn’t really his to know. It was a one-sided conversation, with Uther staring into space and silent while Arthur told him about the comings and goings of the court that day. While talking about the petitions, he mentioned a noble’s daughter and hesitated, catching Merlin’s attention. 

“She reminded me of Morgana. Quite the passionate one, challenging the kingdom’s stance on the druids.” 

“Morgana?” 

It was the first time Uther had spoken in weeks and both Arthur and Merlin flinched in surprise. 

“Is she here?” Uther look around, hopeful and with more emotion than he’d shown in weeks. “I’ve missed her, my lovely child.” 

Arthur stood up, moving like he was made of glass. 

“I’ll let you rest now. Good night, father.” 
 
Merlin sought out Arthur’s eyes, the hint of pain visible only to those who could see through his practiced mask. 
 
It broke Merlin's heart. 
 
"Arthur," he said softly, trying to catch Arthur as he brushed out of the room. 
 
"Would you see if the cook has dinner prepared? I feel like retiring early." 
 
Right. Why would Arthur want to talk about his feelings? Even to him. 
 
"Of course." 
 
It wasn't his place, but he still felt frustrated. He retrieved the tray from the kitchen and got it Arthur’s chambers, without running into anyone this time. The morning must have been a bad fluke. 

After depositing the tray on the table, Merlin went about finishing up tidying the room. 

He really needed to find out which servant kept bringing flower's to Arthur's chambers. It was a nice touch, even if he felt it to be a step on his own turf and was a bit worried one of the maids had a crush on the prince again (it happened, on occasion, despite Arthur's general…. Arthur-ness, and it never ended well. If Merlin never saw another item enchanted with a love spell again, it would be too soon). Though if they were going to bring flowers to the royal chambers of all places, would it kill them to put said flowers in a vase. 
 
He sighed, picking up the bunch on the table and searching for a vase. 
 
"I'll be back with these," Merlin said, waving the flowers. 
 
Arthur looked like he'd bit into a lemon. 
 
"You could... you know, keep them." His eyes darted down his plate. 
 
"Um, thanks?" 
 
Merlin stood for a moment in the middle of the room, brow furrowed. When it became clear Arthur wasn't going to look up, red staining more and more of his cheeks, Merlin left. 
 
At least Arthur hadn't called him a girl, insisting he take the flowers. And they were lovely. 

Merlin walked into Gaius's chambers, hoping for the smell of stew. What he found was Gaius, hunched over a book. He stood in the middle of the room. Gaius looked up only to raise his eyebrow. 
 
"What?" 
 
Gaius looked at the basket on the table, "Aren't you forgetting something?" 
 
Merlin let out a controlled breath. This day needed to go die in a ditch. He picked up the basket, white knuckling the handle and tried to ignore his stomach. 
 
"Merlin?"
 
Merlin turned from the door. Gaius held out a piece of bread. "I'll have dinner ready when you get back."
 
"Thanks Gaius." 
 
—

Merlin bent down, picking herbs, enjoying the scent of the grass, wet from the afternoon rain. A wave of calm washed over him. It was peaceful, after the day he'd had. 

The sun had just set and the forest was lingering in the space between day and night when colors seemed most real. A rabbit skittered past him, drawing his attention up. He could have sworn an unnatural flash of blue went through the trees to his right. 

What odd thing was that? Merlin straightened up, scanning the trees. 

This part of the forest was abandoned. Something about it gave Merlin the creeps, and even Arthur had decided not to call him a wimp because of it. So it made sense it was the only place not a day’s ride away where this confounded herb grew. Despite Merlin’s original protests, Gaius just raised The Eyebrow and sent Merlin on his merry way. 

Merlin sighed and knelt back down in the grass, again wishing for a day off. 

Chapter Text

Merlin woke up the next morning relieved by the smell of a fresh day. He walked out of his room and straight into Gaius. Again. His reflexes were better this time, saving the vial just before it hit the ground. 
 
"Wow! Don't need you dropping that vial two mornings in a row!" 
 
Merlin grinned, Gaius raised his eyebrow. Merlin continued chirpily on his way to the kitchen where he was meant by the cook, worry lines tight between her eyes. 
 
"You're late." 
 
Merlin frowned, ducking his head to get a look through the window. Shit. He was late. Two mornings in a row. Oh joy. He grimaced, snagging the tray and turning around. And running smack into one of the kitchen maids. 
 
"Merlin!" she shirked. 
 
Merlin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Camelot could be repetitive, sure. He moved his foot, just to be safe, while he picked up the tray and scattered food. 
 
A pan hit the floor a moment later, part of the general chaos of a stressed out kitchen. 
 
Merlin straightened up, letting the maid he'd run into take the things out of his hands. The kitchen seemed to be under more pressure than normal. Visiting nobility had that effect. 
 
"You all seem to be having a go of it," he commented as cook pressed another tray into his hands. 
 
She shooed him off and told him to run to Arthur's chambers. 
 
The oddness of the day had him distracted. Or so Merlin told himself, as an excuse, when he rounded the corner and straight into Gwen for the second morning in a row. 

“I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s all right Merlin, it happens,” Gwen said, helping him clean up the mess, “Just don’t make a habit of it.” 

“Guess I’m already failing there,” Merlin said, laughing along with her. 

The laughter died, Gwen screwing up her face. “What?” 

“I…. it’s just that I ran into you yesterday, too. Gotta be more careful with where I’m going.” 

“Are you all right?” 

“Yes?” 
 
Either he or the entire castle was having memory problems. 
 
Arthur, it seemed, had a perfectly functioning memory. Once Merlin retrieved another tray and dragged him out of bed, he was more than ready to lecture Merlin about the necessity of the crown prince of Camelot being awake bright and early. Of course Merlin had brought that on himself for apologizing. Normally he’d leave Arthur to figure it out and rant, but he felt bad having done the same thing twice in as many days. 
 
"And do you know what that means Merlin?" 
 
"You have to be up with the birds to be in as foul a mood as possible during training?" 
 
"It means you have to be awake on time in order to wake me up on time." 

“Yes, no, I know. It won’t happen again. I mean, it happened yesterday and today, but it won’t—” 

“Merlin.” 

“Yes, sire?” 

“What are you blabbering about? I wasn’t late yesterday.” 

“You… where? Late to court, with the petitioners, Leon had to come get you.” 

He had no self-preservation instinct. A smart man wouldn’t have brought up something Arthur had clearly forgotten about. Arthur, who was now looking at him like he had gone and lost his mind. Or the look Arthur threw him every other Tuesday. 

“What are you talking about? Court is today. I didn’t see petitioners yesterday.” 

That dumbfounded Merlin enough he snapped his mouth shut. It also reminded him had no idea what was on Arthur’s agenda for the day and that was a sore oversight the king—
 
Merlin’s thoughts where rather rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. 

“Enter.” 

Leon poked his head in the door. 

“My lord, most of the petitioners have already gathered.” 

Arthur looked out the window and sighed. “You see Merlin, this is what I was talking about.” 

The entire thing served to further glue Merlin’s mouth shut. He really needed a vacation. Or another dramatic threat to Arthur’s life. Something to spice up the routine that had apparently gone to his head. 

  Things only got odder and odder still when they arrived at court. There was a commoner accusing someone of stealing his sheep. A lord from somewhere thought the taxes coming down from Camelot were a bit steep and his subjects couldn’t pay them without starving in the coming winter. 

Arthur’s face was the learned neutral of someone raised at court. Merlin could still see the hint of annoyance around his eyes. 

“Your subjects you say?” 

“Yes, sire.” 

“First, those are my subjects, not yours. And second, it’s not the commoners who are having issues, and perhaps if you took fewer chances with your gold, neither would you.” 

The lord slunk away. Merlin blinked, trying to shake the feeling settling in his chest he’d seen this exact set of petitioners yesterday. He glanced around the room, seeing none of his own feelings reflected on anyone’s face. 

But he had seen this exact set of petitioners yesterday, and that was the problem. And listened to Arthur deftly reminded everyone he was young—not an idiot. He could have sworn Arthur had said those exact words, exact sentences yesterday. 

It took Merlin far too long to realize Gwen was standing in the back of the room trying to get his attention. Half the court had noticed her, and she was starting to look stressed. More people than yesterday noticed when he slipped out, this time around. Servants were invisible so long as they weren’t skrewing up  

“Gwen, sorry, wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Merlin, are you sure you’re all right?” 

Right. The rooms. She’d asked for help with them again. Hadn’t she?

“The rooms?” 

“If you don’t mind.” 

“Of course not.” 

So Merlin continued on with the uncanny day. Cleaning rooms, rushing back to court to catch the tail end of a cryptic conversation about magic between Arthur and Lord Ector. 

“Just going to leave that then?” he asked Arthur. 

“Leave what?” Arthur asked back, doing his best I-don’t-know-what-you’re-on-about. 

“You’re not going to tell Leon.” 

“No.” 

“But it’s magic, don’t you want to go chasing it down?” 

Merlin wasn’t sure why he said these things. As regent, Arthur had turned far more of a blind eye to sorcery in the kingdom than Merlin would have expected. Something inside him needed the confirmation. Just needed to hear Arthur say it. 

“No, I don’t.” Arthur scrubbed his hand over his face. 

That wasn’t exactly what he needed to hear, but it was close enough. As close as he was going to get, anyway. 

Merlin went through the motions of the rest of the day, again taking far too long to get back around to cleaning Arthur’s chambers. That goddamn cricket was still in the room. Merlin was on his hands and knees, peering under the bed when Arthur came charging into the room. Merlin heard the door slam, and then nothing. 

“Merlin, what are you doing?” 

“Trying to catch that confounded cricket.”  

“Merlin? Merlin.” 

“What?” Merlin hit his head on the edge of the bed, trying to straighten up. 

“Merlin, I want to talk to you. I want you to know how I feel about…. your job performance.”  

He rubbed the sore spot, finding Arthur standing over him, looking worried and nervous. 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“Really Merlin, you need to be more careful.” 

“Well maybe you’d like to try and find this cricket.” 

“What? No. I mean, not now.” 

Merlin just looked at Arthur. He rarely, no scratch that, never seen the prince regent so freaking rattled. Arthur just stared back, his face softening the longer he looked. 

“Arthur,” Merlin whispered. 

“I’m glad my father made you my manservant. Even if you’re not very good at it. Well, not the principal parts.” Arthur touched the flowers on the table. “Nice touch.” 

“Wait. We had this conversation yesterday.” 

The red spread to the rest of Arthur’s face and down his neck. 

“No we didn’t. I think I’d remember.” 

“Remember not being able to express yourself? I think that’s becoming a daily challenge for you.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, in a strangled voice. 

“What?” 

And they were back to the rambling conversation that Merlin couldn’t have repeated if threatened with the stake. It long, winding, and made no sense. Arthur started talking about his childhood and someone wound around to how terrible Morris had been, shushing Merlin when Merlin tried (again) to interrupt him and tell him maybe if he’d been nicer—And then took a left turn into the spluttering that really made no sense to Merlin. 

“You understand what I mean?” Arthur asked, an uncanny shade of hope gleaming in his eyes. 

Merlin clearly took too long trying to come up with an answer that wouldn’t hurt Arthur’s feelings. 

“Never mind,” Arthur muttered. 

“Wait, Arthur, just let me—” 

“I believe the stable need mucking out.” 

Well, if that was how it was going to be. Merlin glared at Arthur for a few moments, but the prat refused to look at him. So Merlin slammed the door on his way out, cursing under his breath all the way to the stables and most of the way through the task. The emotionally stunted clotpole. Utterly incapable of realizing that other people communicated with completed sentences instead of dancing around whatever the fuck it was. 

He hated mucking out the stables. He really did. But it was the sort of mind-numbing, hard work that left him less annoyed at Arthur. Returning to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin found him again staring into the depths of the table.  

“Waiting on me again?” Merlin joked, instead of feeling further guilt for leaving Arthur stewing in dread two days in a row. 

“I need to go see my father,” Arthur said dully. 

Merlin sucked in a deep breath. This was a regular part of any day, no matter how repetitive, and he hated it. 

Later, after Arthur had again retired early and the quiet of night was falling on the castle, Merlin was standing in the middle of a hall, stopped by his thoughts and as very odd feeling. It dawned on Merlin that he had no memory of leaving the woods last night. He paused and tried as hard as he could to remember the walk back to the castle. 

“Merlin? Are you all right?” 

Gwen had probably been standing there for a while. 

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, forcing a smile onto his face. “It’s fine.” 

“Are you sure?” Gwen asked, her brows knitting together in that way that let you know she was seeing straight through whatever BS was being thrown at her. 

“Yes, it’s fine.” Merlin grinned wider. 

“All right,” Gwen relented, continuing on her way. She had her cloak on, probably heading home for the night. Merlin lost himself staring into the distance again. 

He had no memory of coming back from the woods last night. 

Chapter Text

Merlin woke up even less rested and more unsettled than the morning before. And by the looks of it, late again. He slowly got up and dressed. Leaving his chambers, he sidestepped Gaius, passing by with a glass vial. The strange sensation was growing already.

In the castle kitchens, he sidestepped a kitchenmaid with a hot pan. And Gwen in the hallway outside. He made it up to Arthur’s chambers with the first tray intact this go-around. 

Arthur was, as expected, a lump under the covers. Merlin set the tray on the table and just stared. Arthur’s head and part of an arm were peaking out from under the red covers. His hair was splayed out on the pillow, and the one arm was perfect. Long, lean, sculpted muscle. With callouses on the palms that Merlin could visualize. Arthur rolled further under the cover and let out a snore. 

It broke Merlin out of his stupor. 

“Let’s go, sunshine,” he said, flinging back the curtain.

“The fuck did you say?” Arthur muttered, still half asleep.

“Thought I’d try something new.”

Merlin grabbed the bottom of the blanket, pulling it off Arthur. Or trying to. It turned into a tug-of-war, like most mornings.

“Well, don’t, it doesn’t suit you.”

“What, calling you sunshine?”

Arthur froze. “No.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows, taking advantage of Arthur’s… whatever it was… to pull the covers the rest of the way off. Exposing his exceptionally fine chest. Merlin did his best not to stare, but it never worked very well. And he really didn’t think anyone ought to blame him for that.

“Get up, sire.”

Arthur complied, still looking a bit off around the eyes. Merlin went about finding a shirt, settling on the red one. And then passing over it for the blue.

“I like it.”

Arthur said it so quietly, Merlin didn’t think he was intended to hear it. So he went on as if he hadn’t. He turned around and gestured for Arthur to lift his arms. Arthur was staring at the shirt in Merlin’s hands.

“Don’t you always go for the red one on petition days?”

The unease was back, spreading through his ribs.

“Didn’t you hear petitions yesterday?”

Arthur looked at him like had gone and finally lost his mind.

“I know you’re a bit thick sometimes, but really Merlin.”

Merlin turned back to the wardrobe and slammed the shirt back on the hanger. 

Arthur wore the red shirt. And heard the same petitions, word for word, as yesterday. Gwen showed up just as the noble with a gambling addiction slunk away. Merlin cleaned rooms, listening to Gwen share the same bits of castle gossip as yesterday and the day before. 

He was too dazed to ask about the cryptic conversation with Lord Ector, just let Arthur wander off to the next thing while he worked his way through the rest of his duties. Which is to say he spent most of the next few hours in Arthur’s chambers because it was quiet and he could think. 

Or try to think. 

Merlin paused. Standing and listening to the silence of the room. Nose of the citadel filtered up from the courtyard, muffled. If he was right, Arthur was about to—Charge into the room. And screeched to a halt in the center, clenching and unclenching his fists. Merlin put a folded pair of Arthur’s breeches on the bed. 

“Arthur.” 

Arthur took a deep breath. 

“I want you to know how I feel about…. your job performance.”  

“My job performance.” 

“Yes. It’s…” Arthur cleared his throat. “Excellent.” 

That would have been more convincing if Arthur hadn’t been staring at the lower half of his face instead of his eyes. A sudden shot of hope that Merlin thought he’d buried a long time ago. He cleared his throat, dragging Arthur’s eyes back up to his. 

“Job performance? Really?” 

Arthur broke into a grin. “Well, there might be something else.” 

Merlin raised his eyebrows. Whatever Arthur was looking for in his face, he must not have found it because the entire thing crumbled back into the same round of rambling as yesterday. And the day before. 

“We’ve had this conversation.” Merlin interrupted, just as the blush on Arthur’s cheeks was reaching its height. 

“What?” Arthur squeaked. 

“I’m just—still—not sure what it is you’re getting at.” 

“Well how do you know we’ve had this conversation, Merlin?” 

He did love just how quickly Arthur could take back the upper hand. 

“Oh we have. This is the third time around, and we still haven’t gotten to the point.”  Merlin started towards the door. “This is why I write your speeches.” 

—

“Gaius!”

Merlin burst in Gaius’s chambers, startling the old man even though he didn’t bother to look up from the mess on the bench in front of him.

“Yes, Merlin.”

Bless his unending patience. Merlin borrowed a little to take a breath. It was fine, they’d figure a way out of this.

“Time is… broken.”

That got Gaius’s attention. “I’m sorry, but what did you say?”

Merlin waved his hands about. “Everything is…. looping. Today is the same as yesterday, and the day before it.”

Gaius sighed.

“Not everything can be exciting all the time, Merlin. I think you’ll find most of life is a bit tedious.”

“No, I mean exactly the same,” Merlin snatched the vial from Gaius’s hands. “I bumped into you the past two mornings, and you dropped this.” He waved the vial in Gaius’s face, who snatched it back.

“Merlin—”

“And when I said that yesterday, you said you most certainly had not dropped that vial the day before.”

Merlin’s wild ramblings was getting through enough Gaius sat down at the table. Merlin sat across from him, trying to get his heart rate to settle down as well.

“Something’s happened to time. The same day is repeating over and over, and I seem to be the only one who’s noticed.”

“Did you cause it?”

“What? No.”

Gaius just looked at him.

“I mean, I don’t think I did. If I did, it wasn’t on purpose.”

That was a terrifying thought. Hunting down a rogue sorcerer or undoing someone else’s spell was one thing. He did that all the time.

Trying to wrangle a misfire of his own magic this big was another.

“And there isn’t anyone else who has noticed this?”

“No.”

Silence rang in Merlin’s ears.

“Gaius. If I caused this….. I have no idea how to fix it.”

Gaius patted his hand. “You’ll figure it out.”

He got up from the table.

“I suggest you start with some research.”

Merlin let his head flop dramatically to the table before peeling himself off in the direction of his room.

“Merlin.”

“Yes?”

“Don’t you have a prince to attend to?”

Merlin waved a hand. “He’ll be fine. Not like he’ll remember it in the morning, anyway.”

Gaius appeared at the door to his room.

“Merlin, remember when you do fix this, there’s going to a day that stays on the permanent record. Some of your actions will remain.”

“Right. Will keep that in mind.”

Merlin settled down on his bed, loosing himself in the book.

—

The door to Gaius’s chambers crashed open. Merlin looked up, trying to blink away his bleary vision in the fading light. A livid Arthur was staring through the second doorway, straight at Merlin.

“Your highness—”

“Merlin, what, pray tell, have you been doing all day?”

Merlin dropped the book to the side of his bed and rubbed his eyes.

“I wanted to finish our talk and you’ve been missing all damn day. Do tell what’s so interesting.”

Arthur was around the bed and in front of Merlin before Merlin could process.

“Um, studying? You’re always saying I’m bad at my job. Thought I’d brush up.”

Merlin stretched the kinks out of his neck, looking up at Arthur. And the book in Arthur’s hands. He froze.

Arthur looked like time had finally stopped. He was staring wide eyed at the book, then up at Merlin. Neither of them said anything. Gaius was hovering at the edge of the room.

“My lord—”

“My chambers. Now.”

Arthur spun out of the room, taking the offensive book with him. Merlin stayed on the bed, dazed. Had that been… hurt in Arthur’s eyes? Not after he’d spotted the book. That mess of emotion had been about Merlin had expected. Well, less bloody, but still.

“You’d better followed him.”

Merlin finally got his limbs untangled. He stopped at the door to the stairs. “Gaius—”

“If he wanted to execute you, he’d have already done it. Merlin, tread carefully. Don’t make him change his mind.”

Merlin nodded. 

—

Pushing open the door to Arthur’s chambers, Merlin couldn’t hear anything except his own heartbeat. His face must be bright red, given how he was sweating. Funny, he’d always thought he’d meet this moment with cool resolve. Arthur was sitting at the table, the grimoire in front of him. Closed.

“What is this.”

“A book of magic.” Merlin carefully stood a few feet from the table. Between Arthur and the door.

Arthur’s face was a wreck of emotions as he stared out somewhere past Merlin’s left shoulder. Anger morphed into grief, melding into something else altogether.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Merlin slowly sat down across from Arthur.

“Because you would have taken my head off. Probably with that mace.”

A smile cracked at the corner of Arthur’s mouth.

“You haven’t gotten much more reverent.”

Silence ate the rest of the words.

“Arthur,” Merlin reached his hand across the table. The knowledge these moments would cease to be in a few hours both gave him strength and did nothing to dull the throbbing pain in his chest. “I would never make you choose between your father and me.”

“I…” Arthur trailed off, eyes wide. “That’s what you were worried about?”

Merlin’s brow furrowed. “Of course.”

He had really been intending for Arthur to take his hand, but it took his breath away and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Arthur to stop.

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, taking a deep breath. “You can’t seriously not know how important—”

It wasn’t a jolt. Merlin hadn’t felt physically thrown when he found himself back at the start. But this time, his insides felt like someone had yanked them so hard the bruises would last for a month.

So would the tears.

And now he had to get up, go face Arthur, and pretend that none of that had ever happened. Because as far as Arthur was concerned, it never had. 

—

Merlin woke up, kicked off the covers, avoided Gaius and his precious vial, snagged a piece of bread off the table and headed straight for the library. He spent the day pouring over books, looking at everything he could find about time.

No dice. The closest he got were some old woodcuttings that made little sense.

“Merlin!”

Oh, right. Other people were still living through this day like normal. Merlin did some quick math, landing on Arthur had just come back from training. No, he would have been back for a while. Long enough to figure out where Merlin was. Why would Arthur assume Merlin was in the library? 

Arthur came careening around the corner. “Oh look, it’s my useless manservant!”

“Arthur.”

Merlin went back to the dusty old tome on his lap. Looking for what some evil someone or other might want in the vaults of Camelot was like looking for a needle in a stack of needles. He might as well stand in the vaults, spin in a circle, and run with whatever he ended pointing at. But something about the corner guarded with magic was pulling at his gut, insisting on importance. And bad things seemed to get worse when he took the time to ignore his instincts. He’d identified one or two of the items nearest the corner and working off of that could date when most of the things in the section went into the vaults. Currently, he had a faded, blotted, mis-spelled inventory list in front of him that was intriguing but made no sense. 

“Do you know what ‘the empty glass’ was?” 

“Oh that’s what you want to say to me?” 

“Right. Sorry. Do you know what ‘the empty glass’ was, my lord?” 

He really enjoyed that exasperated look on Arthur’s face. And having it there because Merlin put it there was even better. 

“How many years and you still don’t know how to use a title, do you Merlin?” 

Merlin just grinned at him. He could see that grin started to crack at the edges of Arthur’s face. He sighed and leaned against the nearest bookshelf. 

“A fairytale. Used to scare children.” 

“Got it. Thanks.” 

It seemed to be a log. Items brought in… somewhere. Dangerous items? 

“Well come up for dinner when you’re done.” 

Arthur was halfway down the corridor when Merlin finally processed the earlier statement. 

“You mean bring dinner up?” 

Arthur made some kind of gesture with his hand and just kept walking. Merlin tried to go back to the book, but he found himself distracted. It sounded so nice. “Come up for dinner.” Sounded…. Right. Back to reality, Merlin. He dragged himself out of the stacks, trying to note the titles for the morning. Better get the regent his supper. Even if it wouldn’t matter in the morning. 

Merlin was walking up the stairs with the tray when it hit him. 

Why a time loop? It would give anyone who wanted it the ability to walk into Camelot without consequences. Merlin took a breath, pushing his palms into the tray and forcing down the panic. Why. Why would someone need this sort of cover to, to break into what? 

The vaults. 

He dropped the tray off to Arthur and went to give it a look. 

It took precisely one nod of his head and whispered “allinan” for Merlin to get into what was supposed to be one of the most secure parts of Camelot. Life was a good degree easier when he could just use his magic as he pleased. 

Merlin stepped pasted the gate. Then stopped. Something was wrong. He took half a step back, then rocked forward, looking for the catch in the corner of his vision. He ran a finger over the edge of the lock. And promptly snatched his hand back at the sensation of burning metal. Sucking on the finger, it didn’t hurt. He cautiously reached a hand towards the metal, finding that about a half inch off, the air was burning with magic. Upon close inspection, someone had cut the bolt in two so that gate couldn’t lock properly.

So maybe it hadn’t been his spell. And maybe someone needed to learn to that spell. 

Merlin pushed the gate open again, looking for anything else odd or out of place. To be fair, he didn’t have a good grasp on what was and wasn’t supposed to be down here. It wasn’t like the prince regent—or Uther—was going to let Merlin wander around the vaults. 

The dust on most items was a good sign no one had touched them since long before Merlin was born. Really, what was the point of some of these things, just sitting down here gathering dust? It seemed likely no one would even notice if half these things went missing. 

Well. Maybe half. 

That would look odd. 

The corners were dark, hidden depths Merlin didn’t want to look into. Especially that corner. His footsetps faltered and the thought mad Merlin stop. 

He didn’t want to look in that specific corner. 

Why? 

Making himself walk toward it took monumental effort. And not just because he was wading into magic, but the dust in this corner of the vaults was thick. It had been lifetimes since any of this had been breathed on by a human. 

Finally, he hit an invisible wall. It was like stepping too deep into water, stepping off the gentle slope into an unseen hole. Only it was magic filling his lungs and drowning him. His hands grasped for purchase, finding only gossamer threads. He never thought he’d feel too much magic thrumming through his veins, the very thoughts in his mind over saturated. 

It would have been the greatest high of his life, if he hadn’t been literally drowning in the stuff. 

His heel scrapped on the floor, sending him back just enough to find oxygen again. Merlin stumbled back into the realm of the real again. He bent over double, choking his way back to breathing. 

He reached out a single finger, poking at the invisible wall. It burned with magic. 

It took him far to long to pull it back. First, he couldn’t make himself look at the corner, and now he couldn’t make himself look away. It took all of his willpower to keep himself from walking forward and drowning himself again. So much magic, pulling at every part of his existence. 

He took a deep breath to settle. Feeling the oxygen rattle through his lungs — a poor replacement for the magic burning there. Focus, dollophead. 

All that magic, protecting a dusty set of shelves, steering everyone away from even looking at it for centuries. Whatever was behind it must be terrifying. 

Merlin ran a hand just a breath away from the magic. Watching it shimmer. He breathed a spell, watching a couple of shapes light up. He left the vaults, muttering the spell under his breath to keep them fresh in his mind on his way to his room. 

And Arthur. Standing in Gaius’s chambers, making small talk with Gaius.

“Merlin!” 

Merlin didn’t have time to a form a response to either thing before the regent was dragging him out of Gaius’s chambers. Bloody fuck. 

“Gaius asked me to--”  

“Oh no, Merlin. You are not getting out of this.” 

So fortunate that Arthur knew him so well. Could read him like a book. Or one of those grain reports he did read—and comprehend. There was a brain behind all that flashy sword work. 

“Arthur—” 

“No, Merlin.” 

“You haven’t even heard what—” 

“No.” 

Couldn’t say the soon to be king wasn’t stubborn as the day was long. Unfortunately for the warlock he was dragging down the castle halls. 

Chapter Text

The problem was, even with a day off Merlin couldn’t just sit around. He had to have something to do. And in this case, it really wasn’t a day off. 

He had to fix this. 

Arthur had dragged him down the stairs, up the hall, up more stairs and into the royal chambers. And proceed with the same inane speech he’d been giving. Only with slightly more “Merlin! Just let me get through this!” than the previous few days. Well, the last few days from Merlin’s point of view. Apparently forward flowing time was unique to him these days. The day had come and gone in much the same fashion as the last…. several. It was hard to keep a sure count when the only thing that had changed in the morning was Merlin. 

Merlin sighed, snapping the book shut and peering up into the sky. It was almost sunset, the colors starting to appear at the edges of the horizon. He took a steadying breath, focusing on the spell. 

"Êower, sê heofon, sê næssa, ealdgeweorc singales. Onbæc f¯ætan s¯æl, hrycg st¯ælan ðegnlagu."

His magic went shimmering out in front of him, he could feel it bleeding from his veins. Sucking into greedy ground, until he felt a little lightheaded. 

Okay. A lot lightheaded. 

His knees hit the ground, he was gasping for breath. The magic finally stopped flowing, leaving Merlin choking, curled on his side in the grass like a newborn. After coughing up a lung, his head lolled back, taking in the last bit of light leaking through the trees. Something blurry and brighter blue than most things in nature rustled past. He thought. The tableau of blue fabric and green woods transformed into solidly dusty stone. How did the ceiling even get dusty? 

—

The problem was, even when he knew the hot pan was coming, he still got distracted some mornings and ended up with a smarting foot heading up the stairs to Arthur’s room. At least he hadn’t run into Gwen this morning. Arthur, Arthur never changed. 

“Sire, you have to get out of bed.” 

Incoherent mumbling under the covers. Per the usual. Merlin sighed and threw his hands up. He flopped into the chair at Arthur’s desk, folded his arms, and waited. 

Turned out the prat could sleep all morning. Leon was due to be poking his head in at any moment. Merlin looked at Arthur, who was currently drooling on his pillow. As fuzzy with sleep as Merlin was most mornings, he could still see the dark circles under Arthur’s eyes. 

Merlin shot out of the chair, opening the door just as Leon had raised his hand. 

“Merlin! We’re ready for—” 

“Arthur’s sick.” 

“Sick?” 

“Yep.” Merlin folded his arms. “Sick. 

Leon was still looking at him oddly, but he let it be and wandered off—after an argument over who would fetch Gaius. Which Merlin won and then promptly didn’t do. He grew restless as the day wore on, and moved about the room, cleaning as quietly as possible. 

Arthur rolled over as Merlin was idly running a dusting rag over the cabinet next to the bed. He’d been distracted by the bit of blue sky he could see between the half-drawn curtains and looked back to find Arthur just looking at him, his expression sleepy and happy. 

“Good morning, sire.” 

“What are you doing?” Arthur asked, his voice still rough from sleep. It was the least hostile tone Merlin had ever heard that question in. 

“Waiting for you,” Merlin said, smiling. 

Arthur smiled back, and Merlin held it for several precious moments before going to pull back the curtains. He turned around to find the smile on Arthur’s face gone, and the prince regent glaring out the window. 

“What time is it?” 

“Later than usual?” 

Arthur groaned and dragged himself upright. “You do realize waking me on time is one of your duties, correct?” 

“You needed the rest.” 

“Merlin!” 

“Oh it’s fine, I told Leon that you were sick.” 

Much to Merlin’s shock, Arthur was capable of dressing himself. Or simply too impatient to wait through the ritual of Merlin dressing him this morning. Well, he was mostly capable of dressing himself. 

“Wait, Arthur—” 

“I believed I’m late enough already, Merlin.” 

Merlin grabbed his shoulder, pulling him to a stop and fixing his shirt in the back. He smoothed it down over the shoulders, and adjusted the collar too, out of sheer habit. Arthur seemed to have forgotten he was in a hurry, the quiet of the morning seeping back in around them. His eyes strayed from Merlin’s, and there were words on his lips. Something just out of reach to Merlin. 

“Arthur?” he asked quietly. 

He should have kept his mouth shut. The noise broke the spell, Arthur jerking back. Merlin could see the nerve dying in his eyes. The regent was out the door before Merlin could begin to process any of it. It was like nothing he did mattered anyway. The day would play out how the day wanted to play out. Merlin spent the rest of the day in a foul mood, poking through books he’d seen far too many times at this point. 

Waking up late every single morning despite any missteps on his part was a difficult starting point for anyone, but somehow Merlin felt better after getting a good night’s rest. Well, a bit better. He was currently standing around, watching Arthur eat breakfast. 

Arthur paused, fork halfway to his mouth. 

“Is there a reason you’re staring at me?” 

Merlin shrugged. “Someone’s got to watch your weight.” 

“Are you calling me fat?” Arthur asked, indignant. 

“Well not yet.” 

Merlin ducked the silverware being thrown at his head, a perfect excused to hide his smile. Arthur went back to eating, and muttering threats under his breath, while a rather entertaining idea popped into Merlin’s head. He stepped out of Arthur’s line of sight, tempting a raven to the windowsill. A little more coaxing and it let out a squawk that let made Arthur jerk around. 

“What was that?” 

 While Arthur had a staring contest with the raven, Merlin focused on Arthur’s goblet, sliding it a few inches to the right. Just out of Arthur’s reach. The gold faded from his eyes just as Arthur turned back from the window. And immediately reached for the goblet, only to furrow his brow when his hand closed on air. 

Merlin spun around to continue with the cleaning, doing his best to hide his laughter behind the dusting rag. It was the little things that made this whole mess more bearable. 

—

Gaius had done his best to help Merlin, but it wasn’t just that he knew very little about time magic. It was becoming apparent to Merlin that was very little to know about the subject. Very few items and fewer wizards that seemed capable of meddling with such a thing. 

So Merlin was sitting with a pieced together spell in front of him while Gaius bustled about, making their dinner. He closed his eyes, focusing on the pronunciation he’d been working on for the last hour. 

"Onhweorfan sê derian. Windan ðrâg ætniman cynde lôh. Oferferian sê l'f."

He could feel his magic leaving his fingertips again. Spinning out and down into the fabric of the world. Where it abruptly vanished, along with his hopes. Again. 

Merlin held his breath for a long moment, hoping against hope for something. Nothing changed. He slumped against the rough stone of the wall, staring at the ceiling and ignoring Gaius, counting down the seconds until the inevitable. 

“What’s the point.” 

“Merlin, unless you want to live the rest of your life like this, I’d suggest a change of attitude.” 

“You sure seem chipper about it.” 

“It doesn’t affect me. As far as I’m concerned, yesterday was as different as tomorrow will be.” 

Nice of Gaius to believe him. 

The cracks in his bedroom looked an awful lot like the cracks in Gaius’s chambers. It should probably be concerning there were so many cracks in the ceiling to begin with. 

And the next day he tried this spell - in between Arthur doing this or that 

And the day after, he tried a different spell. 

Two days later, Arthur caught him in the library with some very musty, very old, very difficult to read magic books. He reacted the same way. A mess of emotions on his face—anger, grief, disbelief—and then ordered Merlin to meet him in his chambers. Where the conversation played out the exact same way, only this time with Merlin struggling to keep up his end. Living through this emotional moment twice was exhausting. 

He went to bed tired that night and woke up tired the next morning. Then stumbled through the day again, trying yet another failed spell while sitting with his legs crossed under him on his bed. Merlin slammed the book shut, taking a deep breath and refraining from throwing the book against the wall. The problem was he didn’t know where to focus his magic. He didn’t have an answer to why this was happening, what was causing it. And until he did, he was shooting in the dark. 

He threw the book at the wall. 

—

If he saw that dusty ceiling one more time, so the Lady help him. Merlin grabbed the nearest thing and hurled it at the ceiling with all the force he could muster. He got a face full of grimoire for his troubles. Sputtering, Merlin climbed out of bed, stuffing the book back into its hole and yanking on his clothes. 

He sidestepped a confused Gaius and made his way straight to Arthur’s chambers. 

He didn’t have it in him to deal with the kitchen this morning. So why he was walking into the royal chambers empty-handed was as good a question as anything. Habit, or something akin to it. 

“Arthur.” 

The covers groaned. Merlin heaved a sigh. Every morning and dragging his Royal Highness out of bed never got any easier. 

“Come on, rise and shine.” 

“Mmph.” 

“Oh come on Arthur. We’ve been through this.” 

Merlin grabbed the covers. 

“You have to get up.” 

Arthur flipped him off and tried to pull the covers back up. It occurred to Merlin there really was no point. 

“Get your own breakfast.” 

Merlin stormed out of the room, coming to a sudden halt in the hallway as his master plan had run out. He cracked his neck, savoring the possibilities. Honestly, anything he did would just be reset in the morning. It was like the day off he was never going to get. 

Might as well make the most of it. 

He started by following his stomach to the kitchen, stealing food, and getting run out by cook smacking him with one of her wooden spoons. But not before he snagged a bowl of strawberries, which he munched on as he wandered about the castle. Ignoring the looks he kept get because honestly, what did they know? 

Passing the council chambers, the silver of the room through the cracked doors caught Merlin’s imagination. He stood for a moment in the hallway, munching strawberries and grinned at one of the passing guards. 

Then he marched into the council chambers, flung himself into Uther’s throne and continued with the berries. Somehow they tasted better when consumed from a position of authority. 

The door swung open, and Merlin found himself face to face with a Leon who wasn’t quite capable of comprehending what was happening. 

“Merlin….” 

Well, that was his cue. Merlin gathered his limbs and walked out the room, shoving the bowl at Leon, who caught only do to his knight-like reflexes.Bless Arthur’s training regiment.
 
Well. 

Bless Arthur’s training regiment for the knights. Not for the part that he dragged Merlin into. Merlin changed course and headed to the armory. Now seemed like as good a time as any to even the playing field. Because why tell someone what you think of him, when you could just give him a good exhibition. 

Oiling the hilt of Arthur’s sword was funny, but the result was a little immediate. Lead to a lot of running on Merlin’s part—just because the day reset didn’t mean Merlin would have enjoyed spending time in the dungeons or the stocks. But it was good payback for all that practice time with the mace. 

Nothing mattered, might as well set the world on fire. Merlin wondered through the castle, still stealing more food here and there. He stuffed a feather in the back of Gwaine's armor. It would have been funnier if Merlin had tried harder to keep a straight face. Leon seemed concerned as Gwaine plucked the feather out, glancing between Merlin and the feather. Leon started to say something when Arthur's voice rang out across the courtyard. 

"Merlin!" 

The knights scattered at the look on Arthur's face. Merlin bite into an apple and waited for Arthur to storm his way across the courtyard. 

"And how's his royal pratness today?" 

Merlin took another bite of his apple as Arthur gaped like a fish. 

"What's wrong with you today? You know you can't say things like that to me." 

Arthur's voice was soft, almost gentle. A normal person might have thought he seemed concerned. 

Merlin, however, had lost his goddamn mind. He looked Arthur up and down. 

"Guess you didn’t miss breakfast that much." 

That did it. 

"Merlin." Arthur's eyes were the only thing that shifted, giving his smile a deadly glint only those who knew him well would catch. 

Normally, that glint made Merlin’s mouth go dry and his mind concoct ways out of the current scenario. 

As it was, he leisurely bit into his apple again and raised an eyebrow at Arthur. 

“There’s incompetence, and then there’s you. And the stables that need to be mucked.” 

Arthur turned to leave him, Merlin impressed he had enough self-control to walk away before he did something he regretted. 

He wouldn’t regret anything in the morning. 

Nor would the guards Merlin chucked the apple core at and ran from. 

He spent the rest of the afternoon and early evening sitting on a dusty part of the castle roof, on a long forgotten turret. Staring at the stars starting to appear, wishing for answers. Or at least a new sunrise in the morning. It seemed like a long forgotten part of the castle to him, so he nearly fell off said roof when Arthur climbed out the same broken window Merlin had. 

“What is going on with you?” 

“Time seems to hate me.” 

Arthur took a deep breath. 

“All right. And what did you do to piss her off?” 

Merlin pulled his knees to his chest, out of quips for the moment. Arthur sat down next to him. Merlin still said nothing, a numbness radiating out from the center of his chest. 

“Merlin,” Arthur prompted several minutes later. 

“I don’t know. The day just seems to be repeating over and over. The exact same things, down to the bloody petitions in court. Word for word. And the pan that kitchen maid keeps dropping on my foot.” 

“If it’s repeating why don’t you just—” Arthur stopped himself. Merlin glanced out of the corner of his eye to find Arthur taking another frustrated breath. 

“How long?” he asked, starting again, quieter this time. 

“I don’t know,” Merlin answered truthfully, “A week?” 

“And you’re sure?” 

“Not really, just seemed like a good day to utterly fuck off around the castle and see how close I could get to getting executed.” 

“No one will ever execute you,” Arthur replied, seemed distracted and not fully aware of what he was saying. His eyes glued to the horizon. 

“And then I went running into Uther’s chambers and announced my love for the druids.” 

“What?” Arthur spun his head around, eyes wide. 

“So you are listening.” 

“Of course I’m listening.” 

“Arthur, I’m stuck in a time loop.” He hadn’t meant for his voice to crack, he really hadn’t. He’d much rather keep making snarky comments than wallow in the mess he was currently in. But his voice had an idea of its own. As did the rest of his face, apparently. He could feel the overwhelming mix of emotions rising up his throat, pushing tears to his eyes. 

Merlin’s distress seemed to shift something out of Arthur’s mind, Merlin could see it being carefully whisked away as Arthur brought his hand to Merlin’s shoulder. 

“It’ll be all right, we’ll fix it,” he said, squeezing Merlin’s shoulder. He left his hand there, a comforting warmth spreading through the rest of Merlin’s upper back and lacing down his arm. 

“Right.” He paused. “How?” 

“Well, let’s retrace your steps.” 

Merlin blinked. “Which ones?” 

Arthur rolled his eyes. “From the original day. Something happened that set this off.” 

“You believe me?” 

Arthur stopped walking towards the door, turning to Merlin, just looking into his eyes for a long moment. His whole body softened, and if Merlin didn’t know better, he would have thought Arthur wanted to reach for him. “Of course I do.” 

There was something right on the tip of Arthur’s tongue. Merlin could feel it in his bones, drawing him closer. And then the moment dropped, Arthur scrambling to hide the nervousness in his eyes. 

“Though I can’t say I’m looking forward to spending all day in the tavern.”

The windows to the soul, indeed. That mocking, condescending tone of his really was undercut when his eyes still looks like that.  

“You spend as much time in the tavern as I do!” 

Arthur was blushing again, muttering something about a joke. He cleared his throat before Merlin had a chance to respond. 

“Anyway, we have plenty of time to walkthrough your day. There can’t be that much to it.” 

Merlin squinted at him. “And you call me the idiot.” 

That colored Arthur’s cheeks, probably prolonging the time it took for Arthur to realize why that would be a problem. 

“Fine. We’ll start with where you were when the loop started. Maybe you tripped over a magical rock or something.” 

“A rock.” 

“It is you, Merlin. It wouldn’t be surprising.” 

“You really think a magical rock in the woods caused this?” 

“Again, it’s you, Merlin. Stranger things have happened.” 

Merlin rolled his eyes and followed Arthur. 

—

“Is this really useful? We’re not even in the same places at the same time I was.” Merlin whacked a tree branch out of the way. Even Arthur had looked annoyed when he found out how far from the castle they were walking. And looked slightly perturbed by the ghostly woods surrounding them in the late evening light. He stood up a little straighter, hand staying closer to the hilt of his sword. 

“Well, wake me up tomorrow and walk me through it.” 

“Arthur.” 

“What?” 

“You won’t remember this tomorrow.” 

He paused again, turning his full attention back to Merlin. “So tell me again.” 

Merlin got lost in those eyes, in that face, in the strong waves of something he wouldn’t put a name to if he dared. This was the man who was the once and future king of Camelot. And for these few moments, Merlin had him all to himself. The shining strength radiated off Arthur. Merlin felt a quiet surge of endurance. He’d tell Arthur the story every morning for a thousand years and never tire of it. And he’d get another chance to tell it soon. He stopped, craning his neck to get a glimpse of the moon. 

“This is it,” he said softly. 

“This is what?” Arthur hissed, peering through the trees. 

“The loop is about to reset.” 

Arthur turned, confused. Merlin just stood there, arms dangling at his sides. It didn’t matter. In a few moments, he’d be back in his bed and Arthur would remember none of this. Understanding dawned on Arthur’s face, carrying with it something else. Something deeper. 

“Merlin-” Arthur reached a hand towards him. Something akin to affection shining in his eyes. 

And then it was gone. All of it turned into the stone of Merlin’s ceiling. 

He turned into the pillow and screamed. 

—

Another day, another heartbreak watching Arthur fight his emotions, sitting at his father's likely death bed. Merlin spent the visit studying the faint cracks in the worn stone floor. He had the entire conversation memorized by now, including all the flinches Arthur tried to hide. 
 
He didn't say anything when Arthur slipped past him. Just quietly made his way down to the kitchen. Arthur looked surprised when Merlin carried a tray into his chambers. 
 
"I thought you might wish to retire early." Merlin was going to add a "sire" to the end of the sentence, but he bit it off, not wanting to create further distance between himself and Arthur at the moment. 
 
"Thank you." Arthur looked touched. It didn't warm Merlin's heart. In fact, it broke it further. That someone paid so close attention to him, and would anticipate a need of Arthur's solely out of affection for him, was wondrous to the prince regent. 
 
Arthur got through two bites, then leaned his elbows on the table and rested his forehead on his knuckles. Merlin left the tidying he'd been doing. 
 
"How are you doing?" he asked, settling a hand on Arthur's shoulder. 
 
Arthur let out a shuddering breath and muttered something to his chicken. Merlin sank into the chair next to him. 
 
"I hate seeing him like this." Arthur finally broke the silence. Still talking to his chicken and not Merlin. 
 
Merlin let him, marveling at the new. He'd been stuck in this loop for so long he could go through the day blindfolded. And Arthur still surprised him. Of everyone, he was the most volatile, the most unpredictable, even when Merlin could read him like a book. 
 
Arthur was staring at him, smiling softly. 
 
"Why are you looking at me like that?" 
 
His voice was quiet, creating the illusion of a small, private space occupied only by the two of them. 
 
"Because," Merlin slid a hand onto Arthur's thigh, "Sometimes it's easy to see the king you will become." 
 
Arthur kept smiling, easy and relaxed. Right until he wasn't. 
 
"Merlin?" Arthur had tensed. 
 
"Hmm." Merlin was really distracted by those perfect lips. 
 
"I need to, well, should tell you something." He squirmed under Merlin's hand. Merlin pulled  back, not wanting to make Arthur uncomfortable. 
 
"I…" Arthur looked like a child caught doing something they shouldn't. 
 
"Arthur, what's going on?" 
 
Arthur's face got redder than Merlin had ever seen it. Excluding that one time he spent the whole of a summer day on the training field after Uther made a particularly biting comment about his son's readiness for the upcoming tournament. 
 
"You can tell me anything," Merlin said, dipping his head to catch Arthur's gaze, now pinned to the table. 
 
Arthur was muttering to the chicken again. 
 
"What?" 
 
"I love you." 
 
For one, brilliant moment that would forever be seared into Merlin's brain, Arthur raised his head and the Once and Future King of Camelot was looking at him like he was the sun. 
 
And then it vanished. Arthur's burning gaze traded for the dusty ceiling above Merlin's bed. He couldn't choke down the sob that ripped itself from his throat. It turned into a sort of desperate laughter, careening off the walls. All these days, and that’s what Arthur couldn’t keep his nerve and say.  

And now he’d never said it all. 

—

Merlin stayed in bed the next morning until Gaius poked his head in the room, eyebrow yelling louder than his voice. The sun had crawled further down the wall before Merlin dragged himself out from under the covers. After garnering more unwanted attention from Gaius by standing listlessly in the middle of the room, Merlin found himself wandering towards the kitchen. 

Old habits die hard. 

None of it mattered. Nothing he had done or would do was going to switch anything. He was stuck in a glass ball of time. And it seemed to be shatter proof. Maybe his own magic had finally swallowed him whole, trapping him in the depths of his mind. Merlin reached out, feeling the internal, constant thrum of his magic. It seemed normal enough. 

Which was the problem, wasn’t it? It hadn’t been enough to stop this. He hadn’t been enough to stop this. And he wasn’t enough to fix it. 

The din of the kitchen floated around Merlin without touching him. None of the changes he made ever lasted to the next day. He was surrounded by ghosts walking in the daylight, reliving the same—a sharp pain on his foot broke him out of his reverie. He snatched the tray for Arthur and stormed out of the kitchen. 

Dropping the tray on the table in Arthur’s chambers, he yanked back the curtains. So help him, he was going to find a way out of this if it killed him or someone else. 

At least if he died, his foot would stop hurting. 

The thought took the fire out of Merlin’s movement. He slumped against the edge of the window, an endless string of days hanging in front of his glazed over eyes. Nothing changing. 

This couldn’t be what that fucking dragon had meant. 

“Merlin?” 

Bedclothes shuffled behind him. Merlin leaned his forehead against the cool stone. He needed a few more breaths before he dealt with a half-awake, grumpy Arthur. A warm hand landed on his shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” 

Arthur’s voice was rough with sleep, half a whisper, and sending shivers down Merlin’s spine. He swallowed, closing his eyes. 

“Nothing.” 

Arthur squeezed his shoulder and took away his hand. Merlin missed the warmth for a heartbeat, before realizing Arthur was standing close enough to be radiating heat. He kept his eyes closed, soaking in Arthur. Thank God for their unspoken… whatever it was. Even if he was doomed to an endless loop of this single day, at least it was with Arthur by his side. 

“Are you all right?” 

Arthur’s voice was still gentle and quiet, Merlin let it roll over him, desperate to soak it in for all the moments when he wanted to scream and bash his head against something just for the change. He stretched the moment as far as he could before opening his eyes. 

“Yeah, fine.” 

The smile failed. He’d done his level best to be bright and perky—it both motivated and annoyed the shit out of Arthur in the mornings—but the cloud had settled back in, heavy on his shoulders. Arthur’s eyes followed him back to the table as Merlin set out his breakfast with careful precision. As soon as Arthur sat down, Merlin slumped into the chair across from him and buried his face in his hands. 

Several minutes later, the sounds across from him died out. Merlin looked up to find a roll in front of him, and Arthur across the room picking through his wardrobe. 

“Arthur, what’re you—no, you can’t wear that today.” 

“Why not, I’m the acting regent—” 

“You are not wearing formal wear as every day,” Merlin said firmly as he plucked the garment out of Arthur’s hand. 

The smug affection in Arthur’s eyes didn’t escape him. The prat might be unbearable, but he couldn’t imagine being stuck in time with anyone else. 

Merlin suffered through another day. He was trying, really, he swore he was, to retrace his steps. Relive the day as perfectly as the first time. It’s just that little things kept grabbing his attention, rabbit trails offering pots of gold and ending in dust. And he may have, perhaps, mucked a few things up solely because if he had to suffer through the same interaction one more time he was going to scream. 

Tomorrow. He’d retrace his steps tomorrow. Because seemingly it was never going to be anything but today. 

One of those little rabbit trails reared its head that evening. Instead of wondering out in the woods, Merlin was still in Arthur’s chambers. Much to the annoyance of the regent, who was valiantly attempting to get through some dry report or other. Merlin had taken it upon himself to catch that damn cricket that had eluded his grasp even after this many iterations of the day. It seemed like a logical avenue to pursue to him. Maybe it was enchanted and had caused this whole mess. 

The highly unlikely nature of that was occurring to him just as Arthur was about to ask him what he was doing. Again. Through gritted teeth. Movement in the courtyard distracted Merlin from Arthur, who was rather fetched when he was annoyed. There may have been a reason Merlin enjoyed pushing the limits of Arthur’s patience.  Someone—probably one of the visiting nobles—was walking through the courtyard, a sky blue cap trailing out behind her. Merlin’s mind wandered to the unsettlingly flash of blue in the woods. 

“Merlin. What. Are you doing.” 

There it was. 

“Well, sire, I was attempting to catch that cricket. You would think I would have gotten it by now.” 

“Yes, one would think it. Merlin, did the cricket jump out the window.” 

“No,” Merlin said, waving Arthur off as he was getting up from his desk. “I just saw something new.” 

Arthur snorted. “Like what? People in the courtyard, Lady forbid.” 

“Time is running in a loop.” Merlin waved a hand. “I’ve explained this to you.” 

“You certainly haven’t.” 

“Well, not this time,” Merlin said, bouncing back and forth between the windows, trying to get a better look while remaining discrete. 

“What are you doing.” An exasperated Arthur bumped his shoulder while leaning to look out the window. Sending Merlin forward into the window. And catching the eye of the woman in the blue cloak. She looked up, puzzled. 

Merlin locked eyes with her, this mirage of intrigue. Something new, truly, brilliant new, for the first time in weeks. 

Maybe. 

Or maybe he’d just never looked out Arthur’s windows at this exact moment in time before. 

The courtyard changed into the interior of the castle as Arthur spun him around, throughly annoyed. He studied Merlin’s face, his own melting into worry. 

“I know I joke about you having a mental affliction, but are you feeling all right?” 

“Fine, why?” 

“Merlin,” Arthur said, speaking slowly, “You just said you were caught in a time loop.” 

“Well I am. This day never ends, just starts all over again. And I’ve explained this to you before. Have to say, you’ve been more accepting than I expected.” 

Arthur let go of his shoulder. 

“Magic?” 

“Nah, I expect these things happen from time to time.” 

Arthur just stared. “Why do I put up with you?” 

“Because no one else would put up with you.” 

“You can’t say—never mind.” 

Merlin grinned. “Giving up on telling me what to do, sire?” 

“It seems to be a rather fruitless endeavor.” 

“Took you long enough.” 

“You realize I could have sacked you a long time ago.” 

“Yeah, but you didn’t. Admit it, you love me.” 

The look on Arthur’s face sent Merlin’s owe blood running cold. Shit. He’d forgotten Arthur hadn’t told him that today. He swallowed and tried to push through it. 

“Do you want to give what you were trying to say earlier another go?” 

“This seems to be going somewhat better than earlier.” 

Merlin snorted. “I’ll say.” 

“I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Gwaine.” 

“Gwaine put you up to that?” 

“He told me I needed to man up and just tell you how I felt.” Arthur’s face was turning red. Because apparently he couldn’t start this conversation any other way. 

“Well, he wasn’t wrong. But it might have been a better idea to let it come up naturally. Instead of charging into the room and demanding to discuss my job performance.” Merlin said it with a twinkle in his eye.

“You, apparently, know damn well that’s not what I wanted to talk about.” 

“Well, sire, you’re not exactly subtle.” 

In was true, in hindsight. Now that Merlin knew what all the awkward compliments, letting him off things he hated—such as training—and little things like the flowers that showed up without a vase were about, it was obvious. Less obvious than the looks. Any idiot should have known, known that Arthur didn’t look at anyone else like that. Didn’t let anyone else touch him the way he let Merlin, and it had nothing to do with Merlin’s role as his manservant. 

Arthur was stuttering something out about being a perfect strategian when Merlin interrupted him. 

“Are you trying to tell me you love me again?” 

Arthur’s face was brighter red than before, a feat Merlin thought beyond the realm of the possible. 

“Perhaps.” 

“Well, you prat, I love you too.” 

“Really?” Arthur broke out in a smile. That smile, could any amount of wrongs. There because Merlin, Merlin of all people, had just told him he loved him. Merlin suspected he was wearing one of his own, equally sappy. 

“Yes, really. Though God knows why.” 

“Merlin,” Arthur whispered, stepping forward and cupping Merlin’s jaw with his hand. He cradled Merlin’s face, sweeping his thumb along Merlin’s cheekbone. Everything came crashing down on his shoulders all at once. The joy mixing with the grief and trying to drown Merlin under the weight of it all. The weight of his solitary, repeating existence. 

“Hey, look at me.” Arthur was grasping his shoulder, shaking him a bit. “Look at me.” 

"I'm so tired." Merlin was weary down to his bones. "So tired of half getting you, and then everything gets ripped away all over again." 

Arthur tried to say something, but ended up just pulling Merlin to him, tucking him in close. Keeping him as near to his heartbeat as he could. Arthur's grip was tight enough to cause bruises that wouldn’t be there in the morning. 

"Breathe, Merlin." 

If the fucking pear thought ordering him to- 

"I said breathe, Merlin." 

Well if that's what he wanted, he really shouldn't be caressing Merlin's clavicle with his thumb, hand steady on his shoulders. 

"It's all right, I've got you," Arthur murmured. 

“Arthur,” Merlin choked out, curling his hands into Arthur’s shirt. 

“I’ve got you,” Arthur repeated, his hands sliding up to Merlin’s face, cradling it gently as he leaned in. “I’ve always got you,” he breathed against Merlin’s lips. 

And then he was finally, finally, kissing Merlin. Merlin broke it, because his head was spinning. 

“It’s all right,” Arthur whispered, running his along Merlin’s cheek. 

Merlin was lost in Arthur’s eyes again, and he wasn’t even sorry. 

“So what now?” 

“Do what I told you to.” It was said without an ounce of the haughtiness Merlin half-expected from Arthur. Instead, Merlin had a sudden and bright understanding of why Arthur’s knights would follow him into hell itself. 

Needless to say, it didn’t last long because nothing nice lasted long in the hell that had become his life. He’d never felt more like the punch line.

Chapter Text

So Merlin—for once in his life—followed orders and walked through the next “day” as near to original as he could remember it. He filed in behind Arthur, taking his place behind the throne and trying to keep himself together. Things had proceeded as normal—broken vial and injury to his foot as all. 

The commoner accused someone of stealing his sheep. The lord from somewhere thought the taxes coming down from Camelot were a bit steep and his subjects couldn’t pay them without starving in the coming winter. And the dark-haired girl stood in the back, staring at him again. Just like every day. Merlin savored the hint of annoyance around his eyes. 

“Your subjects you say?” 

Wait. Did that girl stare at him every day? Merlin went searching her out again, but her gaze was firmly on Arthur, face the well-worn mask of neutrality learned through years of this shit. She was dressed nicely, not one of the commoners making a petition. Black hair, worn like Morgana used to. He racked his brain, but he couldn’t remember what she asked for, or if she was one of the petitioners who came forward. He blinked, trying to sort the millions of threads running through his brain into something resembling sense. 

The lord was pausing as though he’d lost his train of thought. Merlin could feel it. A wave in the air, some sort of glimmer. 

“I apologize for taking up his highness’s time with this matter,” the man said, almost more to the air than to Arthur. He wandered off, and that was that. Definitely different. Merlin followed the man, wondering what was different about him. Trying to remember a name. He could go through the man’s room tomorrow while he was here at…. 

The girl was up next. He couldn’t remember if she did or not. It just wasn’t in his brain. He hadn’t been around to her petition before. Arthur nodded at the girl to begin. 

She skipped the usual curtesy, staring at Arthur with cold eyes. The hair on the back of Merlin’s neck stood up. 

“There are druids who have set up camp in the foothills of the White Mountains, near my father’s lands.” 

Silence ticked over the room. Merlin glanced at Arthur out of the corner of his eye. 

“And this has caused problems for you and your father, Lord Elaudin?” 

Arthur’s attempt to establish he knew her family based on something that had eluded Merlin went straight past her piercing gaze. 

“You misunderstand me.” 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. The girl threw her chin back even farther. 

“I am here to petition that your highness leave them in peace.” 

“I see.” 

They stared each other down, Arthur letting nothing more slip. Another time, Merlin would have been incensed, or scared. But these “days” he understood. Arthur was not going to act on this information, but as regent he was also not in a position to blatantly flaunt his father’s laws in front of members of his father’s courts. 

The girl nodded stiffly in return and turned to leave. Her dress swirled behind her, calming blue in contrast to her simmering rage. Merlin recognized that kind of rage at the laws of Camelot. He also recognized that dress. He slipped out of the council room after her, kicking himself for not recognizing the only other free moving person in the picture. 

“Merlin! I was just coming to get you!” 

Gwen. Merlin fixed his expression before turning around. Even though he knew she wouldn’t remember in the morning, Merlin couldn’t bring himself to flake out on Gwen. So he went about cleaning the rooms, pointlessly. 

Walking into the third room, he came face to face with the girl from the council chambers, still seething with rage. 

“I’m so sorry, my lady, I didn’t expect you to be in here. I can come back later.” 

She settled back into her chair a little. “No, it’s fine. You just startled me. Please, continue.” 

As Merlin moved about the room, the girl watched him like a hawk seeking prey. 

“Are you here for the petitions?” 

“I didn’t realize it was custom for servants to make small talk outside their class here.” 

“It’s customary in Camelot to have servants, not slaves.” 

She continued with the glaring, but didn’t respond. Merlin stopped himself from saying anything else inflammatory, as an inkling of a thought popped into his head that he might not want her to know he wasn’t, well, affected. 

“It’s rather brave of you to make a petition by yourself. It must come from a source of great need.” 

“I’m waiting for my father.” 

That was interesting. 

“I suppose I wanted the king to hear me before him,” she continued, “Not that it’ll do any good. Arthur Pendragon is just as hard-hearted as his father.” 

That snapped Merlin’s thin bit of self-control. 

“Or maybe you shouldn’t judge people you don’t know that are in complicated, delicate situations you don’t understand.” 

He could have sworn he heard another goddamn cricket. Apparently the castle was infested. 

“What’s your name?” Merlin tried again. 

She pursed her lips together. The room was silent long enough Merlin gave up on getting an answer, pulling the covers tight and getting ready to move on. 

“Thea.” 

He stopped on his way to the door. 

“Just Thea?” 

“What do you what?” she snapped. 

Merlin looked her head to toe. 

“You seem like someone with a title.” 

He turned to the door to avoid the daggers she was glaring. 

“Not one that I want.” 

Merlin paused with a hand on the door handle. He’d heard that bitterness before. In his own rantings to a cryptic dragon about his destiny, and in Arthur’s occasional slip. 

“Destiny’s a terrible thing.” 

—

After depositing the regent with his lunch, and pickpocketing the key to the vaults, Merlin made his was again to the dusty, damp, musky depths of the castle. The walk down to the depths reminded him of walks to darker parts of the castle, and unhelpful reptiles. 

He hated the vaults. 

The key stuck in the lock, it’d been so long since the damn thing was made. Or used. Everything inside was covered with a thick layer of dust. Merlin had a terrible thought he must keep Arthur out of the vaults. Or he’d make Merlin come down here and clean them. And that’d be the real hell. 

A never-ending series of days, always starting with orders to clean the vaults and all the dust from yesterday back in its place each morning. Fuck him. 

Merlin shook his head, reminding himself that days normally didn’t repeat themselves. All he needed today was to see who was burning through the lock with magic. 

He just had to figure out what someone was so desperate to get in here. His eye wandered to the magically-not-there corner. If someone had the ability to get into the vaults, but not get what they wanted after all this time….. well, there remained only one possibility. 

Something scrapped on the floor behind him. 

Merlin whirled around to find Thea staring at him. He settled in for a fight. 

“So what are you after?” 

The girl glared at him. And looked like she would not answer him. Her gaze swept over the shelves of various dusty treasures behind Merlin, lingering in a certain corner. 

“What’s it to you?” 

“Oh, no, you’re right. Pardon me for getting in the way, please,” Merlin stepped back and swept a hand over the gloom, “Take what you like.” 

The glare stuttered for a second, before it came roaring back. 

“You’re Prince Arthur’s manservant.” 

“King Arthur’s.” 

“Regent.” 

Merlin raised an eyebrow. “Can’t argue with you there.” 

She made a move to go around him, and Merlin blocked her. She laughed. “You’re unfortunately mistaken about your ability to stop me.”  

Any normal wizard finding themselves in the vaults of Camelot would assume that the opponent facing them did not have magic. Laws and burning at the stake and such. The girl in a blue cloak was sadly mistaken on that fact. Merlin deftly blocked her spell with a tip of his head and golden eyes. These were not normal times. 

They stood and stared at each other for several minutes in the dank air.  

“I suppose this is the bit where  you try to convince me I ought to help you, something something about me having magic and don’t be a traitor.” 

“Oh no. You are a traitor to your kind.” 

Merlin started counting beats in his head, waiting for the rest. 

“It’s taken deep root in your heart. No words of mine could convince you otherwise.” 

“What is it you want?” 

“Magic, in its rightful place.” 

Merlin started forming words for a spell in his head. She raised her hand. 

“It’s a pity your dear Arthur dies in order for that to happen.” 

Some priceless artifact when flying at his head, erupting into a cloud of dust when he ducked, and it hit the wall. Coughing, Merlin tried to get behind some of the shelves and block her next spell at the same time. Which turned out to be ridiculously easy. When she wasn’t wielding the magic Morgause must have taught her, her own skills were relatively minor compared to Merlin’s. 

A fact that Thea caught onto as well. She looked at him, gold fading from her eyes, and turned. 

“No!” Merlin yelled. He took off after her, only to be tripped by a spell he should have easily avoided. His vision was fuzzy after pain exploded in his temple. He had to…. had to get…. He had to get off the… 

When he came to, Merlin was staring at all too familiar cracks in the ceiling again. It bothered him less. He had an enemy, and a face. And Gods be damned if he was letting her get to Arthur. 

—

He was crossing the courtyard, on his way to Thea’s room, when the beat of wings caught Merlin’s attention. He looked up to see the black slide of a shadow over the citadel. Damn dragon. Didn’t he know not to come unless he was called? Merlin’s heart jumped to his throat, waiting for the warning bells that would show someone else saw it too. 

Silence rang in his ears. 

Well. He was running out of time before the day reset again. Better go see what the fucking riddle master wanted now. He glanced in the direction of the visitor’s rooms. She certainly wasn’t going anywhere. 

Merlin batted his way through the last tree branches at the edge of the clearing to find a pissed off looking Kilgharrah. Or as pissed off as a dragon could look to a human. 

“Young warlock. You seem to be loosing your touch.” 

“Wait. You know time is running in a loop?” 

“What I do not know is why this has continued. Surely a creature of the old religion could have fixed this by now.” 

He was peering at Merlin in that way that always meant Merlin ought to be something rather than what he was. Some mystic creature of magic, rather than a beating human heart. 

“I’m trying.” 

Kilgharrah sighed. 

“Have you found the time stone?” 

“What’s a time stone?” 

“In ancient times, when the old religion was young, some among them harnessed the elemental powers through a stone whose origins are lost to the myths of time. Some say it belonged to the Sidhe in the beginning. It was crafted to harness element powers, particular those of time. It caused quite a stir, dividing even the high priestesses. Some believed there were things even they ought not to meddle with.” 

“Elemental power? What does that mean?” 

“Nothing good, young warlock.” 

If there was ever a time he wanted to wring the dragon’s neck. 

“Great. Fine. So how do I fix it?” 

“Correct the course of time. Destroy it.” 

Kilgharrah took off, wings spreading into the sky and melting into gray, cracking stone. 

Fuck the dragon. 

Chapter Text

Merlin was standing next to Arthur’s bed, his hands on his hips, and wondering if he could justify pouring water on the prince regent. Or whacking him with the chamber pot. 

“Come on, Arthur, for once in your life just get up.” 

Again with the intelligible, and likely insulting, muttering from underneath the covers. 

“You just enjoy making my life difficult.” 

“Oh yes, Merlin, your job is so hard,” Arthur said, having perfected his mocking tone even further over the years—a feat Merlin hadn’t thought was possible. 

“This part of it is,” Merlin muttered, yanking the covers off. Or trying to. As usual, Arthur managed to get a death grip on them before Merlin could whisk them away. Something about highly trained, highly experienced combat skills. 

“Come on, Arthur, we need to talk about yesterday. I think I finally made some progress on this stupid time loop.” 

That pulled Arthur fully into the land of the living—and awake. “What are you talking about?” 

He needed to start wearing a sign around his neck. Time loop — told you yesterday — just roll with it. He bent to kiss Arthur. “Promise, love, I’ll fill you in. Just need you up and at it right now.” 

Merlin was halfway across the room to the wardrobe before he realized that Arthur didn’t remember. He slowed and turned around. Arthur was propped up on one elbow, staring at Merlin with wide eyes. 

“What…. did you just say?” 

Merlin took a deep breath. He walked back and sat on the edge of the bed. Arthur hadn’t moved an inch. His eyes were bleeding exhilaration under all that terror. 

“Promise, love, I’ll fill—” 

“Merlin.” 

The idea that he could just try again tomorrow if his current course of action just utterly up and failed was quite liberating. Merlin had also had a bit of practice over the last… while…. to see what helped Arthur accept things more. He’d found, unsurprisingly to no one, that actions spoke louder than words to the man. 

So he leaned down and kissed him again. Arthur was still stiff and unmoving against his lips, as Merlin curled a hand through his hair, softly brushing through the silky strands. The slow slide of Merlin’s lips pulled in Arthur. He reached a hand around, threading it through Merlin’s hair and pulling him down onto the bed, kissing him back. 

Merlin shifted over, fully lying on top of Arthur. The warm heat, bleeding deep into every, best, part of Merlin. It never got old. The multitude of first times, however, was a different matter. Arthur pulled back, leaving Merlin chasing his perfect lips. When it became apparent Arthur wanted to use those lips for something other than kissing, Merlin moving to mouthing at his neck. 

“We’ve done this before.” 

Smart man. It wasn’t even a question. 

“Yes,” Merlin breathed against Arthur’s neck. 

“Mmmmh.” 

Merlin worked his way further down Arthur’s neck. 

“Merlin.” 

Merlin finally peeled himself up enough to look at Arthur. Who just raised his eyebrows. Merlin let his head dropped, landing on Arthur’s chest. He let out a breath. 
A gentle hand ran through Merlin’s hair. 

“It’s okay, you can talk to me.” 

Merlin didn’t let any tears slip from his eyes and spend the next half an hour crying on the regent’s chest. That would have been utterly undignified. 

He certainly did manage to, properly, convey the basic facts. More or less. Having the same conversation over and over was wearing on him. He kept skipping bits, forgetting Arthur didn’t know. And Arthur, Arthur continued to have more or less the same reactions. Wasn’t his fault, but still. It was wearing Merlin thin. 

The same conversation over and over was exhausting. 

“What did I tell you to do?” Arthur was in full battle commander mode. Taking charge and looking for the victory. Merlin felt like a bit of the weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

“You told me to retrace my steps, let the day play out as close to the original as I could remember.” 

“So did you?” 

Merlin just looked at Arthur. “No, Arthur, I normally wake you up with a kiss. Can’t believe you haven’t noticed until now.” 

“Merlin!” 

“Yesterday. I did, Arthur, retrace my steps. I’m not an idiot.” 

There was absolutely no reason for Arthur to know how long it had taken Merlin to do that exact, precise thing. 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “That’s up for debate.” 

“Prat,” Merlin muttered as he kissed Arthur again. He was just fully losing himself when Arthur peeled himself back again. 

“So what was it you think you figured out?” 

Merlin stared at him. “You do realize there’s a way to ask questions without being insulting, right?” 

“Merlin.” 

There was a gentle touch to Arthur’s voice that Merlin, upon reflection, had heard before. But now that he knew it was there, it settled him and melted the stress wound about his heart. He dropped his forehead to Arthur’s shoulder, just breathing in him in until Arthur cleared his throat and shifted his hands. 

Merlin rolled off of him and slung an arm over his eyes. “I think I found the person working the spell.” 

He briefly related the story. After several interruptions, which were not entirely unwarranted. Merlin kept forgetting what Arthur didn’t know. 

“You think she’s the sorceress?” 

“She has magic. Not a lot, but some. Enough to get into the vaults, at least.” 

Arthur’s face had gone white. 

“Merlin, there are some very dangerous things down there,” he said, his voice strained. 

“I know that! I’m working on it.” 

“What do you think she wants in the vaults? And why hasn’t she taken it yet?” 

“I don’t know. The most I could find was some half-lost record about a dangerous object being sealed into part of the vaults with magical wards. Something called ‘the empty glass.’ ”

Arthur had a strange look on his face. “One of my nursemaids used to tell me fairytales about various magical objects, as warning lessons about the dangers of sorcery. One of them was a mirror without glass that could be used to make someone perfectly obedient.” 

An idea clicked into place in Merlin’s head. Finally. Merlin shot off the bed, pulling Arthur with him. He was most of the way to the door before it occurred to him he couldn’t drag the regent down the castle halls in nightclothes. 

“Merlin, where are we rushing off to?” Arthur asked, as Merlin hurried through dressing him. 

“The library.” 

Merlin adjusted the collar, more out of habit than need. 

“Why?” 

“That is generally where the books are, Arthur.” 

Arthur groaned, but followed Merlin this time. 

“At least you can ask Geoffrey questions and get answers out of him.” 

“Wait, why can’t you do that?” 

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Because I’m not the king, when I do that he shoos me away, or goes and reports me to you and we end up having an awkward conversation.” 

Arthur stopped in the middle of the hall. “Merlin, you realize you can tell me anything, right?” 

His face was so earnest, Merlin just couldn’t stop himself. 

“Even if I, hypothetically, had magic?” 

Shock. Grief. Anger. Realization. The same every time. Merlin stood quietly while Arthur took a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. “That sounds like something we ought to talk about, in depth, later.” 

He took off down the hall, leaving Merlin to shake himself out of his stupor and follow. How many times was it going to take for him to not be shocked that Arthur would never hate him for his magic? 

“Geoffrey! Good morning,” Arthur greeted the old courtier as he strolled into the library. Geoffrey looked like he might die of shock on the spot. 

“Have you ever heard of anything referred to as the empty glass? Particularly anything that may be in the vaults?” 

“There are many things in the vaults that would be better left untouched, my lord.” 

“Yes, but not unknown. I prefer to see my threats clearly.” 

“Yes, sire.” 

Geoffrey took the book from Merlin, still not-so-subtly glaring at him. Merlin and Arthur exchanged a look as Geoffrey bent his head over the ancient tome. He looked up, between the two of them, and turned to dig through other papers. Arthur shuffled uncomfortably. Merlin settled a hand on Arthur’s back, gaining a faint smile from Arthur. 

“My lord, this appears to reference a tool of Cornelius Sigan that was sealed in the vaults by the next court sorcerer. The only record I can decipher her is that it was used to influence others to complete obedience.” 

“Why wasn’t it buried with the rest of his things in that tomb?” 

Geoffrey shook his head. “I do not know, sire.” 

“Well, Geoffrey, thank you for your help, it has been much appreciated.” 

Arthur smiled graciously and exited the room. Geoffrey returned the regent’s smile and went back to glaring suspiciously at Merlin. Who felt he really didn’t deserve this level of scrutiny from everyone. 

Said regent had also stopped right outside the library’s doors, so Merlin ran straight into him. Arthur steadied Merlin unthinkingly. And left his hand on Merlin’s shoulder. 

“What now?” 

“Sire?” 

Arthur raised his eyebrows. “What do we do now, Merlin?” 

“Right.” He lifted his hand to take Arthur’s off his shoulder, but somehow got stuck with his hand covering Arthur’s. Arthur didn’t move. Merlin forced his thoughts back on track. “I think we should wait for her to head to the vaults. You go on with your day, I’ll meet you back in your chambers after court.” 

“Won’t she notice when you’re not there?” 

“She knows I know who she is. I’m worried what she might try if she sees me again. I think we’ll have better luck if we wait for her in the vaults.” 

Arthur nodded and did that thing with mouth, turning it down slightly, that meant he agreed. It was woefully distracting to Merlin even before he knew how Arthur felt. “Makes sense.” 

Incredibly distracting. And Arthur was distracting—Arthur was kissing him again. 

He pulled back with a twinkle in his eyes. “I’ll see you later.” 

“Prat,” Merlin uttered under his breath as Arthur started down the hall. 

“I heard that.” 

—

Merlin paced around the room, keeping a close eye on the courtyard out the window. Arthur sat at his desk, being brilliantly annoyed. Neither of them liked the waiting. Just as Arthur was about to do something bold and rash—Merlin could feel it—he caught the movement of a blue cape down below. 

“That’s her.” 

He bolted for the door and Arthur followed. 

“Arthur, what do you think you’re doing?” 

Arthur was giving him that look that preempted the need for him to say his current opinion of Merlin’s intelligence out-loud. “You’re not going down there by yourself.” 

“Arthur, she’ll kill you. You have to stay here.” 

“I’ll stay out of sight, just make sure you don’t need any help.” 

“I won’t need—” Merlin broke off into a frustrated sigh. He didn’t have time for this. And he certainly didn’t have time to convince Arthur to stay put because that would take centuries. All things considered, it was better to know what Arthur was doing than have to deal with the prat showing up anyway—which was certain to happen if Merlin tried to force him to stay in his chambers. 

“Fine. But you’re hiding and you’re not going to do anything.” 

“Unless you need help,” Arthur said, nodding. 

“I’m not going to need help!” 

“Fine. I won’t do anything. Unless you’re dying.” 

Merlin glared at him. 

“Fine.” 

—

Arthur was safely out of sight, and Merlin was patiently waiting in the dank air of the vaults. He ran his finger around the edge. Something hovering just out of the corner of his eye. 

“You’re back.” 

He whirled around. The lady in blue was hovering near the entrance to the vaults. She held that familiar gaze. The one that said “get out of my way, or I’ll turn you into a toad.” If she was capable. Otherwise it’d be good, old fashioned hellfire. 

“Right. Well, how’s that hand?” 

She wrinkled her nose. “Like I’d tell you.” 

She took a few steps forward, carefully, towards the corner. 

“Come on, both of us have to be tired of living the same day over and over.” She was still trying to edge around Merlin. 

“There’s only so much you can do to live things up.” 

“You.” Her head snapped up, eyes wide in unshielded terror. “You’ve been changing the day.”

“Maybe?” 

Really, who was going to expect him to just sit here and live the same day over and over and— “You can’t do that,” she hissed. 

“Why not?”

“You can’t. You can’t change time that much, it could, it could…” Her face screwed tightly together, as if against the unspeakable horrors she might unleash merely by mentioning them. 

“She didn’t tell you, did she? Just rattled off a bunch of vague warning. Listen, I’ve gotten those sorts of things before, from an utterly unhelpful—” 

“You don’t understand. You cannot change time any more than necessary.” 

“Why not?” 

Thea looked truly terrified, that mask of anger slipping. “Because it might not go back. Time may fracture, permanently.” 

Merlin pushed the terror welling in his own throat down. 

“If that was the risk, why use the time stone at all? Where did you even find something like that?” 

“I didn’t.” The girl snapped her lips together, looking like she’d rather murder Merlin than continue. “Someone gave it to me.” 

“Blonde? Murderous? Wears a lot of chainmail?” 

“She didn’t tell me her name.” 

“Morgause. It’s Morgause.” 

And it wasn’t exactly not chilling Merlin’s blood to hear that she was still alive and kicking. 

“You know, you remind me a lot of Morgana.” 

Down to the fiery gleam in her eyes when displeased. 

“How dare you.” 

“Me? You’ve judged Arthur by some arbitrary test he didn’t know about! That’s not fair to him.” 

“I give him a chance every day to change the law, and every day he does not take it.” 

“Don’t you see, he’s meant to fix it. Meant to bring magic back to Camelot. You can’t kill him.” 

She was just staring at him, her chin held high but hesitance blooming in her eyes. 

“But I can.” 

Merlin caught that spark, that tiny bit of doubt, and tried to fan the flame. 

“You don’t have to, you can walk away.” Merlin took a step towards her. “Or we can help you, you don’t need Morgause. Arthur is a good king, you’ll see.” 

It was the last few words that had done it in. His stomach dropped. Instead of kindling a fire, he’d stopped all over it. Thea’s eyes flashed gold. 

Arthur popped out of his hiding place, brandishing his sword so fast it nearly made Merlin’s head spin. He yanked the prince regent out of the way, the stones behind the spot he’d been standing in erupting into a cloud of dust. 

Thea snapped her fingers, eyes flashing gold as whispered words melded Merlin to the spot. He  found himself frozen in place by a spell that wasn’t hers. The magic was deeper and darker than anything this girl possessed, but it was still enough to lock him in place, at least momentarily. Thea flitted past him, chanting more words and reaching past him into the wards. He wasn’t the only one making use of the library. Or maybe Morgause had taught her this. He could just see Arthur out of the corner of his eyes, as frozen to the spot as Merlin was. 

His heart leapt into his throat. For several horrifying moments he struggled against a very old spell and felt the terror of her success. She dug deep into the wards, gasping as she pulled the gilded handle of what must be an empty mirror part way through to reality. Merlin screamed in his head and felt his limbs respond again. 

He didn’t have to do anything. The wards flamed blue, swallowing the mirror again, and leaving Thea screaming. The smell of burning flesh assaulted Merlin. He could see black where her hand was supposed to be. Thea shoved him hard as she flew past. 

The strong magic from the ancient spell that someone—though Merlin could guess who—had given her left him woozy. He’d failed. Merlin slumped against the wall, cold earth seeping in through the thin fabric of his trousers. He’d fucking failed. 

His hand slammed against the wall, and he screamed. The noise ricocheted off the walls, echoing where no one could hear it.

Of course, screaming first thing in the morning did bring Gaius rushing straight into his room, brandishing a spoon. Which, given that Merlin had woken up screaming before in this hell of a day, raised some interesting questions. 

“What help would that have been?!” Merlin eyed the wooden implement. 

“Well it would have been something.” 

“If the goblin had been running around again, maybe,” Merlin muttered. 

“You didn’t let it out again, did you?” 

Merlin sighed and sat up, burying his face in his hands. 

“What were you screaming about?”

Merlin flopped back onto his pillow. Never mind this. He couldn’t do it again. The mood lasted but the familiar pattern on the ceiling annoyed him so much he had to move or he was going to use his magic to dismantle the whole blasted thing. He got up, pulled on his clothes, and brushed past Gaius. Who may or may not have been calling him as Merlin left, but honestly. He had more pressing matters to attend to. 

—

There comes a moment in every time loop when even the best of men crack, and he stands in the courtyard staring at the sky for…. a while. 

“Merlin!” 

He blinked at the sky. Well, Arthur certainly sounded pissed off. Probably because he hadn’t seen Merlin yet today. And on those days, Arthur inevitably—“Merlin, for Lady’s sake.” 
Arthur grabbed Merlin, turning him towards him. The annoyance ringing across the courtyard was warring with worry in Arthur’s eyes. Not that he thought about that worry tended to be there. Hovering under the anger. 

“What is wrong with you?” 

The worry was starting to win. Oh, right, Merlin should probably be speaking. 

“Nothing, I’m fine.” 

His smile seemed to disturb Arthur even more. Merlin’s shoulders slumped. How many times through this mess and he still felt the need to hide everything from Arthur? 

“Merlin, what’s wrong,” Arthur asked, voice gentling. He had on was still on Merlin’s shoulder, his thumb starting to brush back and forth. Arthur was distracting. His perfect jawline, eyes the color of the sky framing his hair. Blue. The cloak. The cloak in the woods. Of course. That was the piece he’d been missing. She had to physically touch the time stone to reset the day. 

“Merlin!” 

Merlin spun around, pulling Arthur into a kiss. “I’ll explain, I promise.”

He let go, running through the gates to the courtyard and leaving a stunned Arthur behind him. 

Merlin found the general area he’d been hunting for herbs in and then picked his way out in ever widening circles from there. He had been worried he might miss it, given he didn’t know exactly what it looked like, but it took his breath away. 

A golden orb, ornate carved and hiding something deep within, was spinning several feet in the air, bright arcs of magic shooting out and digging into the ground.  It was encased in golden tendrils that vanished into the air as they spun out from the ornately carved orb. Merlin squared his shoulders, focusing on the spinning orb suspended in mid air in front of him.

He bowed his head, focusing on the magic. There was no spell for this, only the magic pulsing through the air. And then Merlin felt something he never had before. The odd sensation of his magic draining out of him, every last drop pouring into the spell. Every last bit of strength sinking into the earth, trying to pry the spell loose. He could feel the roots of it, the time spell having taken such deep hold after so many resets, he wasn’t sure even Thea could have broken it had she gotten what she wanted. 

A golden burst of light blinded him, his eyes filled with the turning of the earth itself, all the threads of the days—every last one of them—reversing and turning. Spinning back and back and back. Back to that first morning, what felt like decades ago now. 

And then it was dark. 

—

The first thing Merlin noticed was birds chirping. Little snippets of song, the welcoming of a new day. And his head hurt like he’d been out at the tavern with Gwaine last night. He groaned as he slowly peeled off the damp grass. The shattered object next to him brought everything spinning back so fast he had to close his eyes and take breaths to fight down the nauseous. 

It was a new day. He could feel it in his bones. 

Just because time was back on course didn’t mean that everything had changed. Case in point, his trouble with corners. Merlin ran smack into Gwaine on his way back into the castle. 

“Merlin!” Gwaine clapped a hand on his shoulder for a brief moment before turning it into the bone-crushing hug he always did—like he was seeing Merlin for the first time in months, as opposed to the first time since last night. “How’s Arthur? Spoken recently?” 

Merlin looked at him like he’d sprouted another head. “In case you hadn’t noticed, I work for the man. We talk all the time.” 

“Not what I meant, Merlin.” Gwaine had a mischievous grin on his face. “I ran into our fair regent yesterday….” Gwaine trailed off, a distant look coming over his face as he muttered to himself, “I think I saw him…. can’t seem to remember….” 

“Gwaine?” 

“Anyway. I know told him in no uncertain terms he out to just outright say the thing he’d been dancing around for weeks.”  

“Try years.” 

The grin widened on Gwaine’s face. “I knew it. I knew he was hiding something this morning. Couldn’t keep that grin off his face.” 

Merlin laughed, laughed with wonder in the face of the new day he’d lost hope of seeing. 

“Merlin?” Gwaine called after him. 

He didn’t slow down, he had one more thing to fix before they were out of the woods and his heart was beating so loud it was the only thing he could hear. He flew past a confused Leon, headed in the direction of Arthur’s chambers. 

And got three feet down the hall before that fact sunk it. He slid to a stop and turned. For a moment, Merlin felt the horror cold in his bones that he’d hadn’t stopped it. That today would just keep on repeating endlessly, in one horrifying loop. Forever. 

“Leon! Great morning, isn’t it? Birds are singing, air is fresh. Where are you headed?” 

Leon looked Merlin over like he expected to see blood somewhere. 

“Are you alright?” 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that? I’m fine!” Merlin threw his hands up, still smiling and fully aware of how insane he looked. 

“Are you sure? Should I fetch Gaius?” 

“No! No, wouldn’t want to distract you from wherever it was you were running off to already.” 

Leon gave him another hard look, but relented. “The training field, as scheduled.” 

“The training field.” 

“Yes, Merlin, are you sure—” 

“So not court today?” 

He really probably should do something to ease Leon’s clearly growing concern. 

“That was yesterday. Merlin, why don’t you—” 

“Can’t. Gotta run, thanks Leon!” 

He took back off down the hall towards the wing with the visitors’ rooms. Court was yesterday. Yesterday. 

He flung open the door to find an empty room. There was a blue cloak on the bed, and random bits scattered around the room. Someone had left in a hurry. 

“Merlin?” 

Gwen was standing in the doorway, looking surprised, with a pile of fresh linens in her arms. 

“Gwen! Where is Thea? Have you seen her?” 

“Lady Eree? Oh, no, she left this morning. Apparently in a rush, she’s forgotten some of her things,” Gwen said, looking around the room. “I guess she didn’t get the answer she wanted to her petition.” 

So he hadn’t caught her. But he knew what she looked like. It certainly wouldn’t be the end of Morgana’s designs. But whatever came ahead, they’d face it together. Him and Arthur, they’d be alright. Merlin could feel it in his bones. 

Speaking of Arthur. Merlin looked out the window. If he ran, he’d get back to Arthur’s chambers before he left for the training field. And maybe before he lost his nerve.  

Again. 

A grin broke across his face, and he took off running. 

He burst through the door, taking a moment to close it behind him. His heart was beating out of his chest. 

“Merlin, where have you—” 

Merlin cut him off, yanking him close by his collar and kissing the hell out of him. Arthur squeaked in surprise. Merlin laughed. 
 
"Not quite the reaction I was hoping for," he breathed against Arthur's lips. 
 
"I will never figure you out," Arthur muttered. He finally seemed to unfreeze, bring a hand up to Merlin's neck. 
 
“Merlin, I've been trying—” 
 
"I know." 
 
Arthur knitted his brows together, Merlin reached a finger up to smooth it out. Yesterday seemed to exist, in the sense that so long as no one tried to look at it, it was a clear memory. 
 
"I know what you've been trying to do. And I have had enough love confessions from you to last me a lifetime." 
 
"What—”
 
Merlin kissed Arthur before he could get through the question. He felt Arthur huff before giving up and sliding his hands into Merlin's hair. And then it was like all the times before, Arthur's perfect lips and his perfect hands, the realness of him radiating off and into Merlin's bones. 
 
Thank God this was the last first kiss. 
 
Arthur pulled back, gently brushing away a tear Merlin didn't know was there. 
 
"Merlin?" he whispered, leaning his forehead against Merlin's. 
 
The lie died on Merlin's lips. 
 
“You know. The usual. Morgana, or Morgause—still not sure—tried to kill us all again. They were trying to steal something from the vaults, and they had this—thing—that allowed them to turn back time. They sent in this noble’s daughter with a time stone. It let her keep repeating the day.” 
 
Arthur's hands stiffened. 
 
"Oh don't worry, I fixed it," Merlin said, Arthur looking deeply concerned, "By the hundredth time through or so," he muttered to himself. 
 
"How?" 
 
"I've been stuck living this day over and over again. Even an idiot like me finally notices something's off." 
 
"You're not—Merlin, why were you the only conscious of the loop?" 
 
It was quiet, steady. Knowing. Again, the lie died on his lips. His heart was hammering wildly in his chest, more so than the real first time he'd realized what Arthur was trying to say in his own ridiculous manner. He hoped to the gods he was right about this. Because this time, this time mattered. He’d actually be stuck with the consequences. 
 
"I have magic?" 
 
Shock. Grief. Anger. Realization. Acceptance. One side of Arthur's mouth quirked up. "About time you told me." 
 
Merlin was dumbfounded, but not about to question his luck this time around. 
 
"You knew." 
 
"Of course I knew, not all of us are idiots." 
 
Merlin felt the furious need to do something about the smirk. 
 
He settled for kissing it off Arthur's face.